


Skye is the Limit

by MessyInsomniacBookGirl



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Doctorate, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Hiking, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Intelligent woman, Mentions of mental breakdown, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, RPF, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, University, Weird relatives, past panic attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-16 20:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13643433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyInsomniacBookGirl/pseuds/MessyInsomniacBookGirl
Summary: A Scottish girl from Oxford, with a very unusual family, meets a guy on a hill in London.Falling in love is the easy part...Chaos and intrigue ensue, as Tom and Liv try to navigate their budding relationship through fame, a meddling family, and an age-old duty, while chasing their own, so very divergent dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money from this.
> 
> I just like building Castles in my Sandbox.

**Chapter 1**

 

Thursday 23 March, 2017

 

Pushing her tired body to the limit, she took the final steps up Primrose Hill and reached the summit, like she had summited so many hills before. Her legs felt like lead after a week of intensive hiking, but euphoria pumped through her veins. It had taken her seven days to complete her walk from Oxford to London, along the Thames, but she'd made it.   A week ago she’d packed her camping and hiking gear into her backpack; leaving Oxford on Friday the 17th of March at the crack of dawn, destination: Primrose Hill, London. 128 miles away.

Today she’d done the longest stretch of all, knowing that tonight she’d be able to have a hot bath and relax; sleep in a real bed. Twenty-five miles was a long freaking stretch when you were carrying your house, your kitchen, your clothes, your food and drink and your bed on your back -not to mention all those toiletries one needed-. A total of thirty pounds of weight to lug around.

It had been a good week. Not too cold and not too wet, although quite muddy after a couple of short, but severe, downpours. Thankfully there had been no major diversions along the river, so she’d been able to keep to her daily distance schedule. 

This afternoon, just before she had reached Battersea Power Station, it had begun to drizzle. The whole day had already been dreary and bleak, but, with only ninety minutes to go in her endeavour, the weather gods apparently decided she hadn't been drenched nearly enough over the past week, and had sent a fine, misty rain her way.  

The upside of the wet weather was, that she was now the only one hiking up the hill. No pedestrian traffic jams or annoying runners to hamper her progress. The park was deserted. No-one to witness her slightly nutty behaviour, induced by the giddiness of completing her hike.

With a deep sigh, she stepped up on the edge of the stone ring surrounding the hilltop and turned around, towards the City, raising her hands -which were holding her hiking poles- and her face, to the grey skies.

‘Hey! Sun! Where’d you go? I read that this is where you come to communicate.' she referred to the text that was written on the stone ring. 'I’d like to communicate that I’m unhappy with current weather patterns. This is a shit way to end my walk!’ She called out and waited for a reply. Which didn't come. ‘Yeah, yeah, too busy shining in the Caribbean, I’m sure.’ She grumbled. ‘Leave me out in the cold and wet, why don’t you.’

She raised her hands higher and laid her eyes on the city center in the distance.

‘Insert Big Important Significant end of walk speech here.’ She said more quietly. She brought one gloved hand down, and tapped her lips with a finger. ‘Wait, I’m forgetting something… Oh… Right… London! The rightful Monarch has arrived. Kneel for your Queen!’ She waited again, palms raised to the heavens, walking poles dangling form their wrist straps. No reaction from London, whatsoever. Putting her hands on her hips, poles clanking against the stone pavement, she huffed. 'Figures...'

‘So hard to find good subjects.’ she complained; a snicker threatening to come out at her own antics.

Suddenly, she heard a dark chuckle from behind her.

‘The people of Midgard are not much inclined to kneeling to their rightful Ruler, I’m afraid.’

A startled squeak left her mouth as she quickly turned around, gripping her hiking poles and holding them out in front of her, as a sort of barrier.  Her eyes fell upon… Not the-One-who-was-Misunderstood. It was only the guy who portrayed him on the big screen. She lowered her hiking poles.

‘Oh, thank the gods.’ she exclaimed, half relieved, half annoyed. He'd really given her a fright. ‘For a moment I thought I was up shite creek sans the paddle... You do that often? Scare women half to death with that ‘prepare-for-your-demise’ voice?’

The subject of her ire, a tall, well built runner -who was just as drenched a she was-, clad in ratty black jogging trousers -did she really see a few holes around the ankles?-, running shoes and a black and orange sports jacket with a dark shirt underneath, threw his head back and let out a full belly laugh.

‘I’m sorry, it was an opportunity that was too good to pass up.’ he said, when he was done laughing. He snickered a few more times before sobering up.  He observed her curiously.

The drizzle was not letting up and small water-drops were forming on the long lashes that surrounded his twinkling, bright blue eyes. His hair was laying flat against his head, from being water soaked, and it curled up at the tips. The hair, being wet, was now darker than his usual blond colour. His right eyebrow was raised in silent query as she took in his appearance; a slightly amused smile playing around his closed lips.

She snickered.

‘You look like a half-drowned siùbhlaiche*.’

Both his eyebrows raised in surprise.

‘mar sin tha thu a.**’ He shot back. 

‘I’ve been walking for the past seven days. What’s your excuse?’ 

‘I’ve been running for the past hour… You walked seven days straight?’

‘Um, yeah. From Oxford to here. I hiked the Thames Path. Camped along the way.’

‘Well, that explains the mud-monster outfit.’ 

‘Oh, that was a cool show, wasn't it?’

‘Yes, it was.’ He grinned, clearly delighted she caught his ‘Under the Mountain’ reference so quickly.

‘So, you know Scots-Gaelic... Cool.’ 

‘So do you. Also cool.’ He smiled and stuck out his hand as he stepped closer to her. ‘Tom Hiddleston.’ 

She dropped the hiking pole from her right hand, letting it dangle by the strap that was fastened around her wrist, and shook his hand.

‘I had a suspicion you were, after that whole 'kneeling' debacle.’

‘It is nice to meet you, Your Royal Highness. Might I inquire about which name I am to call you?’ He was still shaking her hand.

‘Oh, of course you may, mr Hiddleston. How rude of me to not give you my name.' She deadpanned. 'You may call me Liv. That usurper in Buckingham Palace carries the title of Queen, so no Royal Highness for me, I’m afraid.’ She smiled up at him and her eyes danced with mirth.

‘Okay then, I will call you Liv if you call me Tom… Are you going home, now that you have finished your walk?’ He inquired.

She let go of his hand and shook her head. She placed the tips of the walking poles on the ground in front of her, and leaned on them a bit, stooping over, with the heavy backpack pushing down on her hips and lower back. Her legs were cramping now that she wasn't moving and she was cooling down too fast because of the wet and cold. She'd have to start walking again, soon, if she didn't want to end up with a bad case of the sniffles tomorrow. Not to mention the achy muscles that would bother her for the rest of the week.

‘No, not yet. I promised my uncle I’d visit with him for a few days before returning to Oxford. I’m staying with him until Sunday.’

‘So, you’re from Oxford?’

Liv laughed, a bit embarrassed about how easy he'd just pried her city of residence out of her, without asking her outright where she was from. 

‘Ooooh, I see what you did there! Very clever, sir.’

Tom only smiled mischievously and kept quiet.

‘Let’s just say that for now, I’m from Oxford. I’m working toward my doctorate there.’ She explained.

‘Hm, impressive. I’m more of a Cambridge man myself, but to each their own.’

Liv raised an eyebrow at his jab at her choice of university. 

‘Right you are, mr Cambridge Actor Guy, to each their own.’ She teased with an exaggeratedly affected voice. 

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement.

‘What’s your thesis about?’ He asked, curious.

Apparently they were both going to ignore the fact that they were having a chat on the top of a windy hill, while getting drenched by rain. To Liv this was no big deal, she was used to all kids of weather, due to her profession -she had done archaeological fieldwork for five consecutive years after getting her masters degree- and her proclivity to be outdoors every chance she got, but the fact that this world famous -and no doubt pampered- actor had no qualms with being inconvenienced by the dreadful English weather, pleasantly surprised her.

‘It’s about the ancient Legends and Myths of the Inner and Outer Hebrides; about how they correlate to the Mesolithic and Neolithic archaeological findings and how they relate to those from the mainland of Scotland. I'm trying to find the origins, or at least the earliest versions of those myths, and back them up with archaeological and textual evidence.’

He whistled admiringly.

‘That’s not a very straightforward subject, is it? I mean, is there any archaeological evidence to be found on stories that were orally passed down through the generations?’

‘You have no idea how I’ve cursed my choice over the past few years.’ she sighed. ‘I’ve had to widen the search to mainland Europe, and ended up in Iceland and Scandinavia, and even in France, Spain and Italy, while I followed threads of similarity in symbolisms, which were rearing their heads on the mainland, and doing research into early historical descriptions of the indigenous people of Scotland. This thesis has become more of a Herculean undertaking of European proportions, instead of a study of early Scottish culture.

'It’s all connected in one way or another, you see. There are no solitary islands, it’s a symbiosis of cultures with a shared prehistoric heritage. The further I went back in time, the more it became obvious that my dissertation would also encompass a big part of European prehistory _and_ history. It’s become a bit of an interdisciplinary flagship, so to speak. It’s been hard work and a frustrating puzzle at times, but in the end it’s been worth it.’

Liv was used by now, that people’s eyes would glaze over as soon as she went into one of her enthusiastic orations on the subject of her doctorate, so, she also expected that to happen now, but Tom’s eyes stayed focussed on her as she outlined the subject, and he seemed genuinely interested, never wavering in his attention.

‘Wow, that is one hell of a huge venture to go solo on. How long until you’ve finished do you think?’ He sounded enthusiastic. Another thing she'd almost never encountered from people who had no previous experience with her field of study.

Liv smiled broadly as she recalled why she'd taken the past week off.

‘Well… It _is_ finished! I turned in the final version last Thursday. If all goes well, I’ll be defending it at the beginning of June.’

His eyes grew wide with surprise and he smiled.

‘That’s fantastic! How long did it take you? Must have been taking up a good portion of your time for the past few years.’

She nodded.

‘Yup.’ She popped the p. ‘It’s been three years to the day since I started. And yes. I lived and breathed this thesis for three years; especially since it took me all over Europe. I almost had no time to come up and breathe, if I wanted to finish within the set timeframe. It’s become a way of life, and a part of me, in more ways than one. Letting that go and moving on to something else is not going to be easy. That is why I was out walking in the past week. I needed to get moving to process it all, and overthink my next possible adventures. I always think better when I’m on the move.’

Tom nodded in understanding.

‘I know a bit about having difficulty with switching back to ‘normal’ life, after living and breathing a certain subject for months on end, but after _years_ of the immersing yourself in, and the intensively researching of, this topic, I can only imagine the enormity of the abyss which edge you're standing on. Quite daunting.’ 

Liv mock frowned at him.

‘Yeah, not helping with your fatalistic wording there, mr Cambridge. Thanks for that.’ 

Tom burst out in laughter that held the perfectly balanced middle ground between a giggle and a chuckle, his nose scrunching up as the tip of his tongue was peeking out between his toothy grin.

‘Sorry, ms Oxford, I was only trying to convey my understanding of your situation.’ A large drop of water rolled down the bridge of his nose and fell from the tip. He scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing off excess water and then raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. It caused the hair to stand up at odd angles and curl more prominently. Liv snickered at the sight and removed the straps of her hiking poles from her wrists, in the same movement taking off her gloves. She leaned the poles against a nearby bench, the gloves placed precariously on the top ends, and looked up at his disheveled coif. 

She moved her hands to his hair, not yet touching.

‘May I?’ she asked. He nodded, leaning forward a bit so she could reach, his eyes darting inquisitively over her face. She started combing through his hair with her fingers, trying to get it back into his usual style. The curls were working against her it seemed. His hair was a bit longer than he had kept it in the past few years and it was completely spiralling out of control, pun intended.

‘This will not do, mr Cambridge. What if you’re spotted with your beloved noodle hair on full display? You would break the internet.’

‘My what?!’ He snorted and burst out into laughter.

‘That’s what your fans call them, those blond curls, your noodle hair. Didn't you know?’

‘I tend to stay away from myself on the internet. I once googled myself and ended up on this site called Tumblr.’ He shuddered at the memory. ‘I’m _never_ doing that again. I have a publicist to handle that side of things. I only go on Twitter and Instagram, once in a while.’

‘Pity. Tumblr is great fun.’ was the only thing she said while she kept attempting to fix his hair. It was damned stubborn, but so was she; she wasn't ready to admit defeat, yet.

‘I take it you're a fan of my work, then?’ Tom asked, visibly trying to not seem suddenly hesitant.

Live chuckled at his trepidation.

‘Well, I like the work I’ve seen, so far, but you could say I’m more of a fan of your fans. Especially those on Tumblr.’ She rephrased. ‘They are highly amusing in their rabid frenzy for everything you do, and at the same time they are very caring about each other and the world around them. They are part of a tight knit community that is heartbreakingly fragile and incredibly strong at the same time.’

‘That is beautifully phrased. It sounds like you’ve really got some experience with them.’

‘Well, let’s just say that, when I first started writing my dissertation, I had no idea I would end up incorporating the Thor movies into my research.’ She saw him startle slightly at this acknowledgment and smiled. She’d bet he’d never expected his work to become part of an academic archaeological and historical study. ’I started with reading the Marvel comics about the Norse pantheon, to see how, over time, myths evolved around certain core themes, and then one of the students I tutored pointed me into the direction of the movies.

'I watched them and dove into google, which brought me to the fan fiction sites -they are also a great way to see how stories, of stories, of stories are wrought, again around the core themes that don't really change over time. It’s very fascinating- and those in turn led me to Tumblr. I got talking to your fanbase and the rest is history, so to speak. Some of those men and women are incredibly well versed in the workings of the different European mythologies, by the way. They saved my arse a couple of times when I was stuck. I owe them big time.'

She smiled up at him as she remembered the convos and discussions she'd had with people from all over the world.

'So, that’s the story of how I’ve come into contact with Tumblr, and with your work with Marvel. Your creation and portrayal of Loki is fantastic, I think. So very much based on a core principle, but also built from scratch, pulling different characteristics from different literary works and mythological stories; and not just those of the Norse variety. So deliciously eclectic... Oh, and I enjoyed Wallander very much. And The Night Manager. I’ve been meaning to watch more of your work, but, you know, research came first. Sorry.’ She rambled as she patted a few last loose strands of his hair in place and decided it looked acceptable. ‘There you go. All is as it should be.’ Admiring her own work she nodded contentedly and took a small step backwards, giving him two thumbs up.

Tom was quiet, and when she looked him in the eyes, she was struck by the intensity of his gaze, observing her with a strange sort of severity. He seemed slightly off-kilter. No longer joking and smiling. So serious.

‘What? Do I have something on my face? Did I smear mud everywhere?’ She reached up and rubbed her nose, trying to ease the sudden tension that was building between them.

Tom slowly shook his head, the corners of his mouth pulling up a bit as the tip of his tongue shot out to wet his lips. He was starting to creep her out with his silence. Maybe she’d overstayed her welcome. It was time to go, she concluded.

‘Well, um, it’s been nice meeting you, Tom, but I have to get to my Uncle’s and it’s not getting any earlier. Sooo…’ She trailed of as she offered him her hand to shake.

He seemed to snap out of his daze as he took her hand in both of his. Not shaking it, but holding it in more of a comforting gesture. He must have noticed her unease with his sudden change of demeanour.  She looked down at their clasped hands. Such pretty hands he had. Big and strong and dexterous, albeit slightly cold and damp at the moment.

‘Ms Oxford, would it be too forward of me when I asked you if you’d want to go to dinner with me tonight? I’d like to continue this conversation and find out more about your research. It sounds utterly fascinating.’ His voice was warm and deep. A not-cold-related shiver passed up her spine. That voice. Ugh. Tumblr was right. Deadly.

When his words registered in her brain, her eyes shot up to his, her eyebrows raising in surprise before she recovered and frowned a bit in confusion. What? Where did that come from? Dinner?

‘Oh, um… I don’t… I don’t know. Dinner? As in a friendly get-together? To discuss my research? That wouldn't be too forward… I think… Do you think so? I mean… it isn't like it’s a… date… or anything? Is it? We’re going as new acquaintances… erm… right?’ She felt a bit overwhelmed by his sudden change of paceand struggled to catch up. 

Tom seemed quite amused by her stammering and he smiled a crooked smile.

‘We could call it ‘grabbing-a-bite-to-eat-and-have-some-drinks-and-make-interesting-conversation’, if you want.’ He reassured her.

Liv took a deep breath and nodded as she pulled her hand free of his.

‘That would be okay, I guess.’ She said, and smiled up at him, dimples appearing in her cheeks. ‘I’d have to drop off my stuff at my uncle’s and find a change of clothes, but I can manage that. Where are we going?’

‘Well, that depends on where you are staying. I was going to suggest somewhere close to your uncle’s. That way you don't have to hurry to get all the way across London in time for dinner, and it would give you enough time to sort out your gear, dry up and get changed. Maybe talk with your family a bit. I don’t know. What do you think?’

‘Sounds good.’ She agreed. A silence fell.

‘Well?’ Tom inquired, raising a brow.

‘Well, what?’ Confusion galore, it seemed.

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Oh, sorry.’ Liv laughed in embarrassment. ‘I’m near St. James’s Palace, in Mayfair. You know a good pub there?’

Tom whistled low.

‘That’s a fancy neighbourhood. And your uncle lives there? What does he do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?’

‘Yeah, tell me about it. Fancy-schmancy.’ Liv rolled her eyes in mock condescension. ‘Some people have all the luck. And I have to live in a one bedroom cottage in Oxford. Go figure.’ She joked with good humour, winking at Tom. ‘I’m not sure how to describe what he does. He works for the Palace and in extension of that, for the Queen, I guess. Something with public relations and promotion of the Monarchy. A lot of hot air if you ask me. But it pays well, or so I’m told.’ She snorted, waving her right hand dismissively. ‘So, do you have a pub in mind?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do, yes. Do you know The Clarence, on Dover Street? It’s a quaint little pub, but they have an upstairs dining room, which is very cosy and warm. They serve pretty good food, too.’

Liv’s eyes started to twinkle and she felt a nervous giggle bubbling to the surface. She managed to repress it, barely. 

‘I think I know the one, yes. Named after the Duke of Clarence, right? Later King William the Fourth?’

‘That’s the one! Wow, you really do know your history, don’t you?’

‘You have _no_ idea.’ Liv chuckled darkly. When Tom threw her a curious look, she smiled at him with closed lips. ‘It’s a long story; if you’re interested I might be persuaded to tell it some time.’ She said as explanation, hoping he’d drop the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * tramp (as in hobo/vagabond)  
> ** So do you
> 
> I know nothing. Google translate helped. So blame that if the translation is botched...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's POV.

**Chapter 2**

 

Tom frowned at the cryptic remark Liv had just made, and opened his mouth to inquire after why she'd seemed so amused by her own answer.

Suddenly, the Imperial March from Star Wars started to play from somewhere on her person. Quickly she fished a sealed, clear sandwich bag, with her phone in it, out of her coat pocket. Well, it apparently worked in keeping her phone dry. 

‘Sorry, I have to take this, it’s my Nan.’ She said apologetically.

Tom nodded in understanding and gestured for her to answer her phone. 

_‘The Imperial March? For your Nan?!’_ He whispered at her as she picked up.  _That must be one intimidating matriarch_ , he thought, shaking his head in amusement.

Liv threw him a wink, while sticking the tip of her tongue out between her teeth in amusement, and then rolled her eyes as she pressed the phone to her ear.

‘Hi, Nan!’ She said in a singsongy voice. She listened to the eldrly voice on the other side of the line.

‘Yes, I’m in London.’

 She sighed lightly.

‘No, I just arrived at Primrose Hill. I’m taking the Northern and the Victoria lines back to Uncle Charlie’s. Should be there in about thirty minutes, maybe a bit more.’

...

‘Yes, I got drenched. It’s dreadful out.’

A slightly flabbergasted expression flitted over her face.

‘No, I’m fine, I won’t get ill. It’s not _that_ cold, Nan.’

...

‘I know. That’s the Scotswoman in me. We laugh at your puny English weather.’ She snickered, a slight Scottish lilt coming out in her accent.

Tom raised an eyebrow upon hearing that. So she _was_ Scottish. Or, at least, in part, just like him. He’d had a suspicion after her almost flawless pronunciation of Scottish Gaelic, but it was nice to hear it confirmed. He had to admit she had absolutely no accent when she’d talked to him earlier, but, maybe, the fact that her English was so absolutely flawless, without any show of a dialect, was the thing that betrayed her otherness.

‘Oh, you’re at Uncle Charlie’s? That’s convenient. How long are you staying? Will you still be there when I arrive?’

...

‘Until after Tea?’ She sounded happy. ‘That’s nice. Is Aunt Millie making bangers and mash again?’

...

She giggled, placing her hand on her forehead as she apparently recalled a memory.

‘Yes, I know the last time was a disaster. Good of you to come over and help.’

Liv covered the phone with her hand.

‘ _My aunt is a menace in the kitchen_.’ She whispered to Tom, in explanation and quickly returned to her conversation.

‘Oh dear god, no, Nan, tell Uncle Charlie I didn't fall into a bog this time. Sheesh, that was one time… Like, ten years ago. Can he please just let that go?’ Her eyes flicked apologetically up to Tom, who was smirking with mirth by now. He was enjoying watching her squirm; obviously trying to accommodate her Nan, but also trying not to embarrass herself in front of him.

She huffed and listened some more to the, by now, apparently multi-person conversation. A big smile broke on her face.

‘Katie and the little ones are there too? Oh, wow, I haven't seen them in ages. I was planning on visiting them this weekend, but it’s nice that I get to see them today, too.’

...

‘No, I’m not joining you for Tea later. I have another engagement.’

...

‘I was invited by a friend to go and grab a bite to eat at a pub and have some drinks. I’ll come to you first, to change my clothes, and have a chat, and then I’m going to The Clarence for dinner.’

Liv sighed and scratched her ear absentmindedly.

‘No, Nan, it’s not a date. Just an outing with a friend.’

...

‘No, it’s not a boyfriend.’

...

‘Nope. Not a girlfriend either.’ Tom’s eyebrows raised at this admittance. Liv shrugged her shoulders at him, having a so-sue-me expression on her face. And she was right of course. Nothing wrong with being bisexual. Good for her.

...

‘Yes, it’s a man.’

...

‘No, he asked me if I would come to dinner.’ 

She sighed again. 

‘His name is Tom.’

...

‘Why do you want to know his whole name? You’re not going to put him through a third degree. I’m _warning_ you, Nan! _No_ background checks on my friends.’ Liv’s voice rose over the length of the last sentence, sounding flabbergasted and irate at the same time.  
  
Tom's eyebrows raised almost up to his hairline upon hearing that. Third degree? Background checks? What on Earth?

‘Nan, we’ve gone over this, not everyone I date is like that.’ Tom noticed her slip-up, but she didn’t. At least not until her Nan grabbed that phrasing and apparently slapped her around the ears with the faux-pas.

‘Oh man…’ Liv groaned. ‘It’s. Not. A. Date.’

...

‘Fine.’ She relented. ‘His name is Tom Hiddleston and he’s an actor. We’re going for some food and a few drinks and have a nice conversation. Want to know all his credentials too? I think, attending Eton at the same time as the Duke of Cambridge is somewhere in the mix.’

The woman in front of Tom was becoming very flustered, her cheeks burning a very charming pink. She looked up at him apologetically, again, and Tom started to understand why her Nan’s ringtone was the Imperial March. 

‘Nan, he’s here right with me. It’s rude to have such a long phone conversation as we're having, in the presence of other people. I think I’m going to have to…’ She was interrupted by a flood of words from the other side.

...

‘Shite, _no_ , Nan, tell Uncle Charlie to leave Google _alone_.’

Liv covered the phone with her hand again and mouthed ‘ _I’m so sorry about this._ ’ to Tom. He smiled and shrugged. Having been in her shoes, he understood she couldn't just hang up on her Nan. And the, albeit one-sided, conversation was highly amusing to him.

‘Yes, he’s quite tall, and blond…-ish.’

‘Nope, no ginger beard… at the moment.’ Liv blinked owlishly, as if she couldn't believe the conversation was taking this direction.

...

‘Yes, handsome, too… Ugh. Naaaannnn. Stop!’ She blushed crimson now and Tom couldn't suppress a chuckle. 

...

‘I don’t know.’

...

‘ _No!_ You can’t talk to him. _I’ll_ ask him.’

She looked at him inquiringly, cheeks still flaming.

‘What?’ He whispered, snickering. This was just such a funny encounter. Something he never thought he'd have when he went running today.

‘Nan says she remembers seeing you in twenty-twelve? At some sort of Academy of Arts gathering? My Uncle takes her to these things sometimes, to get her out of the house. Poor old thing doesn't get out much.’

Another string of garbled words could be heard from the phone. Nan sounded a bit offended to Tom. The tone made a devilish grin appear on Liv’s face.

‘Hush, Nan! Don’t be so sensitive about being a little old lady. We can’t all be as sturdy as the Queen.’ She evilly said into the phone -Tom wondered if it was an ongoing family joke he didn't get, because why would anyone say that to their Nan, in that tone?!- and then she turned back to him.

‘Apparently you met the Queen at that function? Nan asks if that was you?’

‘Huh, yes, that was me. Your Nan has a good memory.’ He frowned as he tried to recall if he had seen an old lady other than the Queen. Nothing came to him. Most of the attendees had been well known writers, poets, artists and actors and their significant others, if they had one of those. Meeting a little old lady with the indomitable character that Liv’s Nan seemed to have, would have stood out, or so one would think. 

‘Yes, Nan, that’s him. He thinks your memory is exceptional. But _we_ all know that that steel trap of yours is the bane of my existence, and of everyone else’s in this family, don't we?’

Someone on the other side burst out laughing and more was said. A soft smile played around Liv’s lips as she listened to her Nan. Until something was said that made her blush again.

‘What? No, you can’t say that to a person.’

...

‘Noooooo, I'm not doing that.’ She sounded very put out. Nan went on a rant again, it appeared.

Then Liv sighed in obvious defeat.

‘Ugh… Okay, I’ll tell him.’ 

She addressed Tom, looking more and more apologetic and embarrassed by the second. 

‘She says she thinks you’re a nice boy. Very well-mannered and eloquent. Good, strong pedigree. Brave and noble ancestors…’

‘Um, thanks?’ Tom’s eyebrows raised in amusement and he grinned widely. This Nan of hers was a real corker. And, apparently, at thirty-six, he was still a boy to her. Lovely.

Liv turned her attention back to her Nan.

’He says, Thank you.’

...  
‘Nan? where did you… Ah... Google… Of course…’ A deep sigh.

...

‘Alright, that’s it, I’m taking away your iPad as soon as I get home!’ 

Tom burst out laughing at that exclamation. She sounded like an angry mum, chastising her child, instead of her Nan.

‘Yes, he is laughing. He probably thinks we’re all completely bonkers. Great first impression _you_ left, Nan!’

Apparently Liv felt the need to get some control back in this conversation and she addressed her Nan again.

‘Listen, Nan, I’ve got to go now, but is there any possibility that you can help me book a table at The Clarence on Dover Street? It’s Thursday and I’m sure that by the time we get there, it will be bustling with the office crowd; people will be having after work drinks and all tables are going to be occupied for dinner, if we go without booking in advance. You know the proprietor, right? Put in a good word?’

...

‘Thank you, Nan, you’re the best!’ She smiled.

...

‘Let me see, it’s half past four, now, and I still have to make my way home. It’s almost rush hour, so, it might take me some time.’ 

So, Uncle Charlie’s house was seen as home, huh? Tom smiled to himself. Her family sounded like a very lively and warm bunch of people, who liked to tease and torment each other, but at the end of the day were a tightly knit and affectionate ménage. He liked that, it reminded him of his own family.

‘I think I’ll be there between five and five-thirty. So, maybe, make the reservation for around seven-thirty… -ish?’ Liv looked at Tom inquiringly.

He nodded in assent. That would be fine with him. It gave him enough time to get home, take a shower, get dressed and take the Tube to Green Park Station.

‘Yes, that would be fantastic. Thanks, Nan! I’ll see you soon.’

As she rung off, a loud sigh of relief escaped Liv. Telephoning with her Nan was pretty exhausting, it seemed.

‘Well, it looks like we’ll be meeting each other again in about three hours.’ She said, as she put away her phone and stuffed her gloves in her jacket pockets. Picking up her hiking poles, she turned to Tom, and smiled. ‘Where’d you like to meet up? Do I pick you up from the Tube, or do we see each other at the pub?’

‘Oh, um, what’s more convenient for you?’ Tom was a bit taken aback by her forward question. Usually the women he went out with were a bit less take charge and more subdued, but he liked the straightforwardness in Liv. It was refreshing.

‘Doesn’t matter either way. It’s about a five minute walk to both locations, for me. How about I meet you at the entrance to Green Park, next to The Ritz Hotel?’

‘That’s fine.’ It hadn't escaped Tom’s notice, that by taking the lead in where to meet, she was masterfully avoiding him picking her up at her Uncle’s house. She must be worried about her Nan giving him the ‘third degree’, as she put it earlier. 

‘If I could have your phone number, I’ll be able to contact you if we have trouble locating each other.’ He proposed as he took his phone out of the sports arm-band on his upper arm and unlocked it before handing it to Liv.

She took it and chuckled as she shook her head in amusement.

‘If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask.’ she teased. She pulled up his contacts list and added her number, with her name. He read it over her shoulder; Olivia Wyndham.

‘So, not ms Oxford then?’ He inquired with a teasing smile.

‘Nope. Sorry to disappoint.’ She tapped the avatar icon next to her name and switched on the camera, quickly taking a selfie as she grinned into the lens. Checking the photo, she groaned.

‘Urgh. Should have named myself Drowned Rat.’ she complained at seeing the state of her appearance.

Tom took the phone from her, before she had a chance delete the pic, and saved her contact-info. He then sent off a text to her number, so she also had his phone number. 

‘It doesn't look half bad.’ he reassured her. ‘A bit wet, I’ll admit, but more like a water sprite than a rat. Very fetching.’ He grinned mischievously as he agreed with his own statement wholeheartedly. With her wet, wavy, dark brown hair framing her heart shaped face -which sported bright green eyes under curved eyebrows and a small straight nose, with a sprinkle of small freckles on her fair skin- she looked like a fairy. Something that was emphasised by her high cheekbones and her small mouth with cupid bow lips.

‘Ooh, look at you, being all suave and charming all of a sudden.’ She teased, as she played his compliment down with a joke, and chuckled. ‘I’m more like a chubby cherub than a sprite, if we have to start making comparisons. I’d never fit into those skimpy outfits those sprites are always sporting.’

He let his gaze travel over her appearance.

‘You’re not chubby.’ He said, a bit confused. Her bulky outdoor coat and trekking trousers covered her from her feet to her neck, and from what he could see, she was fuller than what was usually portrayed as the ideal body shape by the main stream media -which was ludicrous of course, because everyone was built differently-, but she was far from fat or chubby. Curvy, maybe? She was a bit on the short side, from his point of view. But most people were, where he was concerned. He towered over anyone who was below six foot one. 

‘I’m chubby in certain places and quite muscled in others. Trust me, those outfits wouldn't fit. There would be spillage. It would be obscene.’ she snickered at her own joke. It was apparently very funny to her.

And… That was not where his thoughts should be going. The mental picture she painted slammed into his brain like a sledgehammer and it had quite the impact on a certain part of his anatomy. He inwardly groaned, not a good moment to sport wood. Not… good. He sucked in a quick breath through his nose, his nostrils widening at the inhale, and expelled it softly through his mouth as he tried to control his visceral reaction to her words. High time to go home and have that shower. A cold one. Like… Arctic cold.

‘Well, time to go, I think.’ She unwittingly echoed his last thoughts; oblivious to the devastation she’d just caused. ‘I’m going to try and catch the Tube before the rush hour begins in earnest.’ She looked up at him and deep dimples appeared in her cheeks as she smiled. ‘I will see you later, mr Hiddleston. I’m off to Camden Station. Bye.’ She gave a little wave and a slight nod -it was adorably awkward, he thought- and strode away toward the eastern exit of the Park.

‘See you later!’ He called after her. She turned around and waved again, sending him a sweet smile, before resuming her walk down-hill.

He couldn't help but stare after her until she stepped out of sight, behind the trees. What a lovely and adorably quirky woman. Not at all like his usual tall, thin, worldly and entertainment-career-driven type. She was a breath of fresh air with her outdoorsy and fairy like vibe and her unquenchable appetite for research and learning. Of all the days he went running, today had to be the day he went in the afternoon, instead of at the break of dawn. He’d never before been so thankful for a jet lag.

Life was strange sometimes, unexpectedly throwing people on your path, who had the potential to have a lasting impact. After his relationship debacle of the past summer, he’d sworn off dating, and decided he’d only concentrate on his career for at least the coming year, but life had other plans for him, apparently.  From the moment he’d watched her scale the top of the hill and heard her file a weather complaint to the invisible sun and then go on to command London to kneel to her Majesty, he had been intrigued -and not a little bit amused- by the unknown woman’s humour and sassiness. 

And then they’d started talking. When he discovered the intelligent and witty spirit she possessed, and the passion she displayed for archaeology, history and literature, and then combined that with the dimpled smile she had sent his way, well, it had almost done him in, and he’d known he was in trouble. 

He had scared her a bit with his intensity when he’d realised this, and when she proceeded to awkwardly say goodbye, he knew he couldn't just let her walk away without getting to know her better, so, he’d asked her out.  It was a spur of the moment thing; something that he hardly did anymore, because of his high profile life. Too many opportunities to screw up publicly, took a lot of spontaneity out of life. It had startled him a bit that he’d just blurted out an invitation, and it was clearly also something that had taken her by surprise. 

She’d stammered her assent in such a cute jumble of words that he’d had to restrain himself from kissing her just then and there. The realisation that she didn't seem to want to start anything with anyone today -as he’d deduced from her answer, her suggesting to go out as friends- had stopped him. He wasn't going to force himself, or his far-from-normal life, on anyone. Ever.  He was going to dinner with her tonight and he’d see where it would take them. This time he was going to take things slow and keep things out of the spotlight for as long as possible. No more Taylor-like drama and paparazzi chaos for him. And if she wasn't interested in pursuing anything romantic, well, he’d be lying if he said he wouldn't be very disappointed, but he wasn't opposed to them trying to be friends. He had a feeling she’d be a loyal friend… And a hilarious one.

Smiling to himself he started to descend the Hill, toward the north eastern exit. Time to go home and get himself ready for the night out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's Luke :)

**Chapter 3**

 

As Tom entered his front door, twenty-five minutes later, his phone started to ring. Without looking at the caller ID, he answered, while throwing his keys on the hallway table. He toed off his trainers and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a coat hook.

‘Hiddleston.’ he mumbled into the phone, his thoughts already drifting to the warm shower, waiting upstairs.

‘Hey Tom, it’s Luke.’ Luke’s voice sounded a bit strained. Tom could hear from his tone that this wasn't a social call.

He frowned in displeasure. He had taken the next couple of months off, and he wasn’t expecting to hear from his publicist so soon after arriving home from the Kong: Skull Island promotional tour.

‘Hey Luke! What’s up?’ He tried to keep his voice light as he hopped up the stairs, two steps at a time. A shower awaited him and he wasn't going to be deterred from it by a phone call. 

It stayed eerily silent on the other side of the line.

‘Luke?’ Tom walked into his bedroom and tried to take off his wet t-shirt one-handedly, while still holding the phone to his ear with his other hand. Well, that wasn't happening. He almost got stuck and grumbled as he pulled the shirt back down.

‘Yeah, sorry, something needed my attention. I’m back.’ Luke sounded a bit distracted now.

‘Hold on, Luke, I have to take my shirt off.’ Tom put his phone down on his bed for a second, and divested himself of his shirt, throwing it over a chair to dry.

‘Why, Thomas, I thought you didn't swing that way.’ Luke teased when Tom had picked the phone back up. He was clearly stalling.

‘For you I do, darling.’ Tom humorously fired back at his publicist and long time friend, who was happily involved with his boyfriend of eight years. ‘I just got back from a run and I’m cold and tired. A hot shower beckons and it is about to be chosen over your call right now. I’d be quick about it if I were you. So. What’s up?’ He urged as he dropped his trousers and boxer briefs and pulled off his socks, hopping on one leg at a time, before padding into the en-suite bathroom in his birthday-suit, and turning on the tap of the walk-in shower. The large rain-shower started to bring forth steaming hot water almost immediately, and Tom looked at it longingly. Why wasn't his phone waterproof? He lamented.

‘Yeah, so, remember how we agreed to not take any more promotional jobs for the coming three to four months?’ Luke’s voice pulled him back to the conversation.

‘Yes.’ Tom said hesitantly. A feeling of dread started to form in his stomach. He had been looking forward to this time off for months, and he wasn't happy now that it seemed like it was going to end sooner than he thought.

‘Well, apparently Legendary didn't get the memo, and they booked you in for two radio interviews. I just got the notifications. Next week, on the twenty-ninth, in London and one in Manchester, for, um…’ Tom heard papers shuffling, ‘Let’s see, for the thirty-first.’

Well, that wasn't as bad as he’d feared. Unless there was more that Luke hadn't mentioned, yet.

‘And you're sure that’s it? Nothing more?’ He asked sharply.

‘Yup, that’s it.’ Luke confirmed.

‘Okay.’ Tom sighed, a bit defeatedly.

‘Okay?’ Luke managed to sound disbelieving and relieved at the same time.

‘Yes, okay. But that’s it, after that I’m off for at least four months, give or take a few already scheduled public appearances, here and there. Throw it into the ether that Tom Hiddleston, the actor, is out of service until after SDCC. You only get to call me if we’re going out for dinner or drinks. Other than that, I’m in the wind. Understood?’

‘Loud and clear.’ Luke was clearly glad that Tom hadn't gone off on him for messing up his plans. ‘So, how’s the jet lag?’ He changed the subject quickly, probably to get Tom's mind of the extra work he'd just thrown at him.

‘Hell, as usual. I was up half the night and only fell asleep when it started to get light. I woke up at two this afternoon and went for a run to clear the cobwebs from my brain.’

‘Did it help?’

‘I’ll let you know when the results are in.’ Tom joked.

Luke chuckled.

‘You do that, just not in the middle of the night, please… Is there anything I need to know about your trip? Everything went well?’

‘Like clockwork. It was very well executed. We breezed through it, so to say…’ Tom fell silent, debating with himself if he should tell Luke about Olivia.

Of course, Luke, being the miracle working publicist that he was, immediately picked up on Tom’s hesitation and jumped on it.

‘What happened?’ he asked with a tortured groan.

‘During the promo tour? Nothing.’ Tom answered truthfully.

‘Fuckin’ Hell, Tom, stop stalling and tell me.’ Luke sounded quite put out.

Tom was a bit miffed that Luke immediately assumed the worst, PR-wise.

‘Wow, you’re not pulling any punches, are you?’

‘Spill.’

‘Luke, mate, listen, I’m not…’

‘At this moment I’m _not_ your mate. _Spill_.’ Luke’s tone told him he wasn't taking any bullshit right now. 

Tom sighed.

‘I met someone.’

It was silent for a few seconds.

‘Jesus, Tom, you said you didn't want to date anyone for a while.’

‘I know i did, and I’m not. I just met her. We’re going to dinner tonight… Just a friendly get-together. I want to get to know her a bit better.’ He hastily added.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Olivia Wyndham. She’s a researcher at Oxford. The archaeology department, I think. She told me she had just finished her doctorate dissertation on Scottish mythology.’

In the silence that followed, Tom heard the rattling of a keyboard.

‘Are you doing a background check?!’ He asked, flabbergasted.

‘Just some impromptu superficial digging. Where did you meet?’ Luke was in publicist mode now and Tom knew that all he could do, was answer the posed questions, until his friend was satisfied with the amount of information he’d provided.

‘Here in London, on the top of Primrose Hill. I was just finished with my run around Regent’s, and on my way home, when I saw her there. She’d walked the Thames Path from Oxford to London and ended up on the Hill. She was tired and wet and muddy, but still managed to be upbeat and witty... She struck me as a very intelligent woman; down to earth and not very quickly shaken.’ He recalled, chuckling fondly at the memory.

‘Ah, here she is. Olivia Wyndham. Double bachelors degree in Medieval History and Classical Archaeology in two-thousand-eight. Double masters degree in Scottish Medieval Archaeology and Viking Archaeology in two-thousand-nine. All from St. Andrews, Scotland. Did archaeological fieldwork all over Europe for five years, give or take a few months. She's now a doctorate researcher, connected to Magdalen College, Oxford. Has been there since, let's see, March twenty-fourteen… Highly intelligent girl, you got that one right, if you ask me.

'Well, it all looks legit. Her staff-pic is a bit dull, though. Her head must hurt from her hair being pulled so tight from her face. She looks a bit constipated. Not really photogenic.’ It was silent for a few moments and Tom could hear the continued rattle of Luke’s keyboard. ‘Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? She’s very much _not_ your usual type. Comes over as a bit bookish. Bit older too, more to the thirties side of twenty, or even over…' Luke sounded hesitant, as if he thought he wasn't looking into the background of the the right woman.

Tom decided to let that dig on his usual choice of twenty something, bubbly girlfriends, slide. It wasn't like Luke didn't have a point.

‘I know, she’s quite different from the norm. Look, I don’t know what you’re looking at, but I’ve got a pic of her, she took it to go with the contact-info she gave me. I’ll send it right now, then you can compare.’ He took the phone from his ear and sent Luke the water-sprite picture. 

It was silent for a while when Luke opened the file.

‘Well… Would you look at that.’ Tom heard him mumble.

Tom knew that Luke saw exactly what he had seen. Liv’s bright green eyes shining from a make-up-free, fairy-like face, which was sparkling from tiny, dewy raindrops, which caught the light; her dimpled smile betraying an almost unquenchable lust for life, and the contrast of the dark waves of her hair and her light skin giving her an ethereal radiance.

‘It’s definitely the same woman. Talk about two sides of the same coin… What a difference. Look, I'll go and dig a bit deeper; see if she's really a good egg. You go shower and we'll talk again in, let’s say, an hour, okay? I’ll have more information by then.’

Tom agreed and, with a goodbye, they rang off.

It didn't really sit right with him that, by default, Luke had started background checking everyone he came into contact with, when it became clear that they had the potential to be in his life for a longer period of time, but he figured it was something that came with the territory of a high profile life; and he had reluctantly allowed Luke to carry on as he had.

The more famous he became, the more he attracted people who were after his money or his influence, and after fame by association; not to mention the amount of groupies he seemed to attract these days. 

It was getting harder for him to distinguish between the good and the bad eggs, as Luke had named them, and, although he didn't completely agree with Luke’s pragmatism, he did understand his reasoning. It was Luke’s job to protect his privacy and his reputation and he had done it marvellously for the past eight years. If the man thought things like background checks were necessary, then Tom would trust in his expertise.

He placed his phone on the bathroom counter and stepped into the shower, bowing his head under the cascading water and bracing himself against the shower wall with his hands, letting the hot water wash away his worries, and warm his, by now, very chilly body. 

Ten minutes later he was startled awake as his head nodded sharply towards his chest. It took a few seconds for him to come back to himself, blinking to properly get his eyes open, and realising that the rhythm of the water drops falling onto his body, had put him in a sort of trance. His brain was completely silent for the first time in months, and his body was feeling drowsily heavy as he was enjoying the heat that was seeping back into his bones. It had caused him to fall asleep, standing up.

He yawned and stretched his muscles before picking up the shampoo bottle and starting to lather up his hair. No time to fall asleep, he had to get ready for a... non-date. 

Suddenly, an explosion of excited nerves fluttered through his abdomen, and he let out a shuddering breath. He was going on a date -not a date-, with someone he really, really fancied. And it wasn’t a date. Yes it was. No, Tom. Not. a. date. Not really… Not really a date. _Not really a date_.

No matter how many times he repeated this mantra, and tried to get this nervous giddiness to settle, he knew that for him it wasn't true. Maybe Liv was more comfortable with not calling it a date, but to him, it was most definitely a date.

He grabbed his body-wash and and quickly soaped up before stepping back under the cascading water and rinsing out his hair. He wasn't fast enough to close his eyes and some of the stingy stuff ended up causing a painful right eye. Great. That would look charming later on.

It was strange how much he was looking forward to seeing her again. They’d met for less than an hour, but within that short amount of time he had recognised a likeminded soul in the petite woman who was so passionate about her research, and who had completely blown him out of the water with her insightful analysis, dissection and understanding of his creation of the character of Loki. 

No-one he’d dated before had shown that much interest in the depths of his work, or in the research, and blood, and tears, that it cost to get to the definitive version of a character. 

Most of his paramours had been intelligent, well brought-up, and, over all, likeable women, but their interests and focus lay elsewhere. 

Sometimes, it had all been about either being seen with him -and getting pampered with presents and outings- or getting access to the connections he had. Those usually hadn't lasted long. The ones that had more to offer, and who he might have seen himself growing old(er) with, hadn't stuck around either, though.

The fact that he almost solely lived for his craft, and as a result of that, didn't have much free time -Okay, he had to admit that he was a bit of a workaholic-, usually led to discord quickly after said women discovered that they had to share a very large part of him with the muse of acting, and that subsequently led to the abolishment of relations later on. 

He acknowledged that the fault wasn't always with the women; maybe even more times than he could admit to himself, he had been in the wrong. Sometimes he had made the wrong choices. Choosing his career over a girlfriend, one time too many. 

It had gotten him very far, career-wise. It had won him awards, money, fame and glory and, above all, recognition from the most admired and celebrated actors and directors of his time, but, at the end of the day, it left his private life, and the house he came home to, devastatingly empty. Which, in turn, had led to him working even more, and earning himself more recognition. 

It was a vicious circle that he was more than ready to escape, now that he had mostly achieved what he had worked for over so many years. 

He had turned thirty-six in February and he had found that the things that had seemed so very important in his twenties and early thirties, were not as important to him, now that he had accomplished them. He was longing to bring balance back into his life. 

The equilibrium between career and personal life had been out of whack for a long time, and it was weighing on him. He wanted to see his family and friends more often; strengthening the emotional bonds he had with the people close to him, seemed much more important, now. Being home between projects for longer periods of time, instead of going at them back to back, with hardly any time to breathe. Maybe even be as lucky as meeting a nice woman and settle down for a bit. See where it took them.

Which brought him back to Liv. Lovely, sassy, smart, Liv, who had him laughing and intrigued and aroused and wrapped around her finger within an hour of meeting her. It was something that hardly ever happened to him, anymore. If he was honest, he had to admit to himself that such a thing hadn't happened ever since he was in his early twenties. These days he usually chose his partners carefully, with his intellect, and an improvised mental checklist, instead of with his heart, but this time he had been helpless as her charm had blown him clear out of the water. 

A shiver of anticipation for the night ahead vibrated through him, and left him shaky and giddy at the same time. He almost felt like a teenager again. Going on a first date hadn't felt like this for a long time. It was a feeling he both welcomed, for it made him feel more alive than he had felt in years, and dreaded, because it had the power to turn him into a bumbling fool. And he didn't want to be a bumbling fool in front of Liv. Although, he had a hunch she’d probably find it highly amusing, instead of being deterred by it. He suddenly chuckled at his own insecurity.

Turning off the shower he grabbed a towel and dried off, wrapping it around his waist before shaving off his five-o’clock stubble, in front of the bathroom mirror, and then casually styling his hair. He walked back into the bedroom and made his way to the closet, to pick out his outfit. 

As they were going to the pub, and considering the fact that Liv didn't seen like someone who dressed up to the nines for a pub meal, unless she absolutely had to, he decided on a pair of black slim jeans and a charcoal grey fitted v-neck t-shirt under a black cardigan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a bit unsettling...

**Chapter 4**

 

Tom was just finishing up, buttoning up the bottom part of the cardigan, when his phone rang again. Hurrying into the bathroom, he picked the phone up from the counter, and answered Luke’s call.

‘Hey mate, you’re quick. It hasn't been forty-five minutes.’ 

It was quiet for a bit and Tom started to wonder if the connection was bad when he heard Luke clearing his throat.

‘Yeah… Tom, I’ve got some info… or not…’ His voice wavered a bit

‘Luke, what’s wrong?’ Tom was becoming slightly alarmed by Luke's tone.

‘There’s nothing wrong… Necessarily… It’s just…’ He sighed deeply. ‘I don’t know…’

‘What’s going on?’ Tom was now on the verge of being annoyed by Luke’s eluding behaviour. ‘Come on, mate. Talk to me.’

‘I dove further into your friend’s background and nothing came up.’ Luke sounded upset.

‘Well, that’s a good thing, right?’ Tom wondered why his friend seemed so unnerved by this development. He’d have thought that Luke would be chuffed by the fact that he'd found a woman who _wouldn't_ bring any scandals, or other problems, to the table.

‘No, no, you don't understand… There was _nothing_ there. _No_ background. _Nothing_. Her records only went back to two-thousand-five, starting with the beginning of her education at st. Andrews, containing her bachelors and masters degrees, and, after that, her European fieldwork and her tenure at Oxford. I found a rental agreement for a one bedroom cottage in Oxford, from two years ago, but other than that, nothing. There are no elementary, middle or high school diploma’s.  There’s no birth certificate. No mentions of parents, or next of kin. No credit card applications. No driver’s licence. No passport applications. How the hell did she travel and work all around Europe without a passport?!

'She’s not even to be found on the electoral roll or in any census. There aren't any old pictures from before two-thousand-seven. No social media presence from before two-thousand-eight, and then she only follows a few anonymous twitter handles, and a few of her st. Andrews peers and Oxford colleagues. I mean, she doesn't even follow you… Or _any_ other famous people!’ Luke said this in a tone as if that was unthinkable, and Tom had to suppress a chuckle. ‘And her Facebook and Instagram profiles are set to private, and, again, she has no more than a maximum of twenty-five friends, or followers. All invisible to outsiders.’ 

Although Tom thought that it was a bit quaint, he knew there were lots of people who valued their privacy, and didn't have any online presence if it wasn't absolutely necessary. He informed Luke about this view.

‘You might be right about that, but you haven’t yet heard what happened not fifteen minutes ago.’ Luke now sounded almost hysterical.

‘Luke, mate, breathe!’ 

‘Sorry, man. I’m a bit rattled.’

‘It shows. Now, tell me what has you so unsettled.’

‘Well, you know how I have a cousin who works for Interpol?’

‘Yeah, the short blond one, right?’

‘That’s the one… Well, when I couldn't find anything on Olivia, other than what I’d already found, I rang him, to see if he was on duty, and he was. So, I asked him to look into it.’

‘Luke! Tell me you didn’t!’ Tom was in total disbelief. Luke had now officially crossed a line, in Tom’s mind. It was one thing to use google to check people on their history, but to go full police state on them, was a bridge to far.

‘You don't understand, I had to. Warning bells were going off at every turn I took.’ Luke sounded desperate for Tom to understand his actions. But Tom wasn't having it.

‘No, Luke! This is not okay! You’ve gone off the deep end!’ He was on the verge of white hot anger.

‘It turns out I didn’t. Go off the deep end, that is.’ Luke said in a hoarse tone of voice.

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!’

‘The moment that I mentioned her name to my cousin, and he’d typed in the search, the line was cut off.’

‘Cut off…’

‘Yes, cut off. As in, dead. And I couldn't get him back on. Believe me, I tried… After a while I couldn't even get the damn phone to work properly. So, there I was, staring at my phone, which seemed to have died on me, when it started to ring. Startling me almost to death. Thing is, there was no caller ID… It didn't even register as a phone call on the screen. The damn screen was still dead. It was fucking horror movie creepy.’

‘So you…’

‘Answered. What the _hell_ else was I supposed to do?!’

‘I don’t know… Get the fuck out of there and leave the phone?’ Tom sighed, flabbergasted at the far fetched story Luke was telling.

‘Well, I didn’t. I fucking answered the **_fucking demon possessed phone_**!’

‘What happened then? Seeing that you’re still alive, you weren't part of a horror flick after all.’ Tom snickered, in spite of it all starting to sound pretty unsettling, and creepy as hell.

‘Yeah, you laugh! I almost had a heart attack!’ Luke sounded quite cross now. ‘So, I answered it, without saying my name, and some guy on the other side of the line said that he was MI5, and that I, Luke Windsor, was flagged, for online investigating -more extensively than within normal parameters- the name of ms Olivia Wyndham, and for the illegitimate contacting of a government agency, for the illegal obtainment of information on said subject. He asked me for what reasons and purposes I needed the information, and I explained, of course, in detail. I thought I was fucked, Tom!’

‘I can imagine.’ Tom was now feeling a bit alarmed. Who the hell was Olivia Wyndham?! Why did her name elicit such an excessive response from an agency that was involved with domestic security?

‘Well, then I was, not so gently, urged to stop my research into ms Olivia Wyndham. Eventually, it turned out, they were willing to let me go with a warning, this time, but I was ordained to never again try and use an international police agency’s resources for personal research. He said I’m now a person of interest, and they’re keeping an eye on me for the coming year. If I so much as breathe in the direction of Interpol headquarters, I’m fucked.’

Tom wasn't feeling very kindhearted towards his publicist right then; he had crossed a very clear line, and Tom secretly agreed with MI5 scaring the fuck out of Luke. He couldn't really bring himself to feel any pity. In the end Luke had brought it on himself, by ignoring very clear ethical boundaries.

‘Well, I hope you've learned your lesson, and won’t do any more extreme investigating on people you deem a threat to your clients’ reputations.’ 

‘Yeah, no, I’ll just stick to google from now on. Only the top five search results, and nothing more.’ Luke sounded completely exhausted now that he’d told his story. ‘I was right about looking into Olivia’s background, though. There’s something very off about her. What do we do about that? You could just decide to not show up tonight? Lose her number?’ The tone of his voice was hopeful.

Tom understood his friend’s reasoning, especially after being scared half to death, but he wasn’t going to be deterred that easily. From what he’d seen of Olivia, there was no ill will on her part. She had been too genuine and pure in her reactions and conversation, for him to believe she was anything else than what she seemed to be; a lovely young woman, who was passionate about her life and her research.

‘Sorry, Luke, I’m still going tonight. I’ll admit that I’m a bit unsettled by today’s incident, but I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for what happened.’

‘A reasonable explanation?! Anything that places you on the radar of MI5, **_completely_** surpasses the boundaries of reasonable explanation! It’s not even in the same solar system! Fucking hell, Tom, don't tell me you’re really thinking about seeing her again?!’ Luke was sounding desperate now. ‘Please think about what it would mean for your career if this thing goes south, and blows up in your face! No-one in showbiz would even dare to touch you with a ten foot stick! Ever. Again.’

‘Still going.’ Tom said, recalcitrantly.

‘Aw, **fuck**! You. Absolute. Swashbuckling. Fucking. Stubborn. Wanker!’

‘I love you too, Luke.’

‘Right, that’s it. I’m coming with you.’

‘What? No.’

‘Oh _yes,_ I am. If you’re so desperate to throw your entire future away, I, at least, want to meet the woman who will be your potential downfall. And I want an explanation for what happened to me tonight. I have to know why she’s so important.’

‘Jesus, Luke, did you never hear of the proverb,  _curiosity killed the cat_?! It might be better to let it go, for your own sake.’

‘Hello Pot, I’m Kettle. So, to echo your sentiment: Still going.’

Tom groaned. It looked like they both were trying to keep the other from making a monumental mistake, and neither of them was inclined to take the other’s offered advice to heart.

‘Fine. We’re meeting at the entrance to Green Park, next to The Ritz Hotel, at about twenty past seven.’

‘I’ll be there.’ With that, Luke rang off.

Tom sighed deeply, and let himself fall backwards onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling he wondered about how he always seemed to find drama. No matter how much he tried to keep his life simple, it sought him out like flies to honey.  He stayed reclined on his bed for some time, until he realised it had gotten darker in the room. 

Right. Almost time to go. He needed socks. He picked up his wristwatch from the bedside table, sat up, and looked at the time. Twenty-five minutes to seven. In fifteen minutes he had to leave for the Tube, otherwise he’d be too late. He fastened the watch to his wrist and made his way to the cupboard, fished a pair of grey-and-black striped socks from the drawer, pulled them on, and on his way to the stairs he put his phone and his wallet in his trouser pockets.

Downstairs he put on his grey suede shoes, and checked if his kitchen door and all the downstairs windows were still locked. Though he was living in a relatively quiet part of London, it wouldn't do to leave anything unlocked.

At ten minutes to seven he pulled on his grey peacoat, locked his front door behind him, and, with a feeling of happy anticipation swirling through his gut, made his way to Swiss Cottage Underground Station. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family issues. Who hasn't got them...

**Chapter 5**

 

Liv pulled the kitchen door closed behind her, and let out a sigh of relief. She loved visiting her family, but sometimes they were a bit much.

She'd arrived home, at just before half past five, after having been squashed into a tube-carriage, with what felt like half London commuting home, and she'd been ready for some peace and quiet. Too bad her family hadn't gotten the memo. The moment she’d entered the house, she’d been accosted by her aunt and uncle. And her cousin, Katie, with her little ones, hadn't been far behind. Nan had been patiently waiting in the sitting room, to interrogate her about her ‘date’.

When everyone was placated with hugs and well wishes -for her aunt, uncle and cousin- and kisses and cuddles -for the little ones-, she’d dumped her backpack in her room, and had made her way to the sitting room, to greet the matriarch of their family. Nan had been adamant she stay and talk to her for a while, and when she’d finally seen a chance to escape -aided by cousin Katie- it had already been a quarter past six. 

Not enough time left to warm up, by taking a long and luxurious bath. 

Grumbling to herself about stubborn old ladies, who were too nosy for their own good, she’d taken a quick shower in the en-suite shower room, which adjoined her bedroom, while her cousin had upended her backpack on the bed, to see if she had any wearable clothes left that were acceptable for a date.

‘ _Not_ a date!’ She’d yelled from the shower while her cousin had laughed at her in mock condescension.

When she was done washing off the mud and sweat from a day of hiking, Liv had allowed herself a couple of minutes of relaxing and warming up under the cascading water, temperature set to scorching. After staying in the shower for as long as possible, she’d turned the water off and had quickly dried herself. She’d emerged into the bedroom in a cloud of steam, a towel covering her body, and her hair wrapped up in an improvised towel-turban. The sight of her room had stopped her in her tracks.

Her bedroom had looked like a war zone. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Not how she’d left it twenty minutes before. _And_ she'd  _not_ had that staggering amount of clothes in her backpack.

Katie had emerged from the walk-in closet with all sorts of clothing hanging over her arms.

‘Why are all those clothes in my closet? Or, were… as it is.’ Liv had asked, flabbergasted.

‘Oh, Bea stayed here for a while, while her house was being remodelled, and you know her, she’s a bit scatterbrained. As soon as she went home, she forgot about these clothes. Or, so she says. I think she just wanted an excuse to go on a shopping spree, but don't tell her I said that. I’d never hear the end of it.

'At first, dad wanted to get rid of them, because it _is_ your room, and your closet, and he didn't want you to feel like your room wasn't yours anymore, but I convinced him that, as you are almost the same build as Bea, though, maybe, a bit more curvy, you could always use them when you visited. So, these are now all your clothes.’ She’d made an all compassing gesture to the clothes on the bed and to the ones still in the closet.

‘Um… I don’t need that many clothes. Especially not all those scarily expensive, designer ones. Can’t we give them to the salvation army, or something? Or sell them, and donate the money to a good cause?’ Seeing all those thousands of pounds, in the guise of clothes, scattered around the room, had made Liv quite uncomfortable. The most expensive clothes she owned, were her university work suits. She usually shopped at fairly cheap to mid-range clothing stores.

‘Aw, you're so sweet.’ Katie had crooned, as she'd dumped another armful of clothes on the bed. ‘Come on, Olivia! Live a little and enjoy the clothes. You don't have to wear them every day. I mean, I know how you like to dig around in the mud, they’d get all damaged and dirty that way, but when you’re here… Well, just look at it like this; now you never have to pack for a visit, ever again.’ She’d giggled and had held out a sequinned little black dress for Liv to see. It had been embarrassingly short. ’How about this one?’

‘What? No! We’re going to the pub, not to a nightclub!’ Liv had started to dig through the pile of clothes, until she’d found a pair of coated, black skinny jeans. ‘These will do just nicely!’ The jeans had a leather-like shine to them and had zipper pockets in the front and ribbed details at the knees. She’d thought they were very pretty.

‘Oh, yes, the eight-hundred-quid Balmain jeans are way better than the five-hundred-quid sequinned D &G dress.’ Katie had sarcastically stated.

Liv had almost dropped the trousers back on the pile from shock. Almost. 

‘Balmain?!’ She’d exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at the jeans. How could such a simple pair of skinny jeans cost that much?! 

‘I can’t wear that!’ She’d tried to give it back to Katie, who had refused to take it.

‘Of course you can! Come on, put on your underwear and those jeans. We’ll find you a nice top to go with it.’ Katie had started to browse through the tops that were still in the closet. How were there still clothes in that closet? The pile on the bed was huge.

Quickly Liv had followed her cousin’s instructions, very happy that the jeans were made from the-mother-of-stretch cloth. They were very comfy, she had to admit, but she'd drawn the line at one piece of clothing that cost more than her monthly rent. She'd dived back into the pile on the bed, and from the bottom she’d pulled one of her own T-shirts, which had been dumped onto the bed when Katie had emptied her backpack. It was a nice, black, cotton one, saying:  _This woman is an awesome Archaeologist!_

Before Katie had reemerged from the closet, Liv had pulled on her bra, and then the shirt, and had also found some socks that had fallen to the floor.

‘Found my top! Now come help me tidy this all up, before Aunt Milly sees it.’ She'd said loudly, to get Katie's attention.

Katie’d stuck her head out of the closet.

‘What? No, we still have to do your hair and your makeup, and time is running out. I’ll clean all this up later, when you’re gone... Are you really going to wear that shirt to a date?!’ She'd added incredulously.

‘It’s _NOT_ a date! And, yes, i’m wearing this shirt. And concerning my hair and makeup. I’ll whip it up in a ponytail and just slap on some mascara.’

Katie had paled at Liv's pragmatic approach to her makeup routine.

‘Excuse you, you can’t go on a date with such a handsome man and _not_ do your hair, or not wear any makeup! Get in the shower room, sit on the toilet lid and wait for me. I’m getting my bag. I’ve got some emergency makeup in there.’ She’d run out of the room with a, ‘And don't you dare leave!’

‘NOT. A. DATE!’ She’d almost screamed after her cousin.

Her cousin’s loud cackle was heard through the whole house.

After that, it had been a flurry of pampering. Her hair had been dried quickly and then pinned back on the right side of her head, leaving the left side to hang free in long waves, letting it tumble over her left shoulder.

Her makeup had been done in record time. Just a light covering of foundation, powder and blush, to start with, and, after that, Katie had given her a deep dark brown, winged eyeliner and smokey eyes with purplish eyeshadow, which made her green eyes sparkle even more. The look had been finished off with a smudge of clear lipgloss on her lips.

It had been five past seven when they'd emerged from the bathroom. Liv had fished her old doc martens boots out from the back of the closet, under loud protests from her cousin. Katie could maybe convince her to do her hair, and wear more makeup than she normally would, but Liv decided about what went on her feet. And she was not in a million years wearing the torture instruments that Katie had picked out for her.

After that she’d pulled a small black shoulder bag out of the closet and put her phone and wallet in it; then had grabbed the first jacket she’d seen on the pile -which turned out to be a short, very fitted, faux leather biker jacket with a faux-fur collar-, had pulled it on, and had made her way downstairs. Almost running down the steps, she’d called out a quick goodbye to the family in the sitting room and fled outside through the kitchen door.

Which she now had just pulled closed behind her, hoping to the gods that she wouldn't be followed out by one of her nosy family members. She was almost shaking with nerves by now. All that insistence of her family that she had a _date_ with Tom Hiddleston, had made her jittery. 

It was preposterous that everyone thought it was a date. She didn't even know herself if she was ready for it to be a _date_ date. She didn't even know if Tom thought of it as a date. He’d told her he was happy with whatever she wanted to call it. Did that mean he _was_ interested in a date? Or was he just trying to be friendly and relieved that she didn't immediately jump onto the idea of dating him? 

Ugh, she hated it when she started to overthink things to the point of doubting everything about herself. Shaking her head, she pushed her self doubt away and started walking down Stable Yard, taking the turn onto Cleveland Row, passing the small gate into Green Park, and then strolling up the walkway toward the Underground Station.

‘Just a friendly get-together.’ She mumbled under her breath, when the entrance next to The Ritz came into sight. ‘Just a friendly get-together.’

It didn't take long for her to make out Tom’s tall form, standing next to one of the gates. He stood out, even in the fading twilight. Her step faltered a bit when she saw that he wasn't alone. He seemed to be having an agitated discussion with a similarly tall companion. They were looking around a lot, probably trying to locate which way she’d be coming from.

When she drew closer, Tom’s companion was the first to spot her. He looked positively livid. Why was he so angry? He nudged a still talking Tom with his elbow, and nodded his head in her direction, saying something to Tom, in a quiet voice. Tom whirled around and almost immediately spotted her, a wide smile breaking on his face. Which was tempered a bit when the other man softly said something else. She wondered what that was all about. Had Tom changed his mind about dinner? Why had he brought a friend?

‘Hello.’ She smiled a friendly smile at the two men, her eyes flitting to the tall, glowering man next to Tom, unsure about how to handle the situation.

‘Hello, Darling. You look absolutely ravishing.’ Tom said, and he smiled back at her, although it seemed a bit strained. ‘I’d like to introduce you to my publicist, Luke Windsor, who insisted on meeting you tonight.’ He sent a bit of a glare to his companion; clearly indicating that this whole meeting-the-publicist thing, hadn't been his idea.

Liv smiled with closed lips and stuck out her hand.

‘Nice to meet you, mr Windsor.’

The man didn't even make the effort to shake her hand.

‘I’d like to say the feeling was mutual, but it absolutely isn’t.’ He said bluntly.

Wide-eyed, Liv retracted her hand; her mouth now open in shock. What had she ever done to offend him this much?!

‘Luke!’ Tom almost yelled, his anger now very visible.

‘What? You want me to play nice with the woman who propelled me into the crosshairs of MI5?’

A shock went through Liv at hearing that tidbit of information.

‘Sorry, what?’ She asked in a small voice. 

‘Don’t play all innocent with me, little girl!’ The publicist was very intimidating in his anger.

‘MI5?’ She whispered in horror, shrinking away from his looming form.

‘Yes, I was accosted by MI5 tonight, just because I dared to type in your name into a few internet search engines, one time too many! What do you have to say about that?!’ He was talking very quietly, but sounded livid.

‘Jesus Christ, Luke, that was your own fucking fault, you went too far with your background check, and you know it!’ Tom sounded very cross with his publicist.

Liv covered her mouth with her hands in shock, staring wide-eyed up at the now almost rabidly angry man next to Tom. A feeling of dread flowed in cold waves through her body. Her mind was whirling at light speed, as she let all the scenarios, that could have led to this situation, play through her brain. All of them pointed back to the only possible cause…

Her Nan wouldn’t! 

Would she? 

Oh, who was she kidding. Of course she would! 

Her shock was then replaced by an almost powerless anger. 

‘Oh, Fer Fecks Sake!’ She exclaimed in the heavy Scottish accent that always came out when she was about to burst out into a fit of rage. Tom and Luke looked at her as if she’d just grown two heads.

She threw her hands to the heavens, in a gesture of frustration, and continued in her thick brogue.

‘I cannae believe the nerve of that old _sticklar*_!’ 

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking in about, but I reckon from your reaction, that you know why MI5 paid a visit to my friend here?’ Tom asked, clearly trying to be the one who kept his wits about him.

Liv took a deep breath and tried to calm down a bit. Something that was getting harder by the second. She made an effort to get her temper, and her accent, under control.

‘That’s right, but it isn't about what you might think it is about.’

‘How are we supposed to know why you’re a red marker at fucking MI5 headquarters?! Why shouldn't we think the worst? It’s fucking MI5!’ Luke’s voice was louder this time. 

Liv frowned at him. He was becoming irate. She had to clear this up, before it blew up in her face.

‘Look, I’m not in any trouble, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s hard to explain without sounding like an absolute mentally disturbed person.’

‘I don’t fucking care if you’re in trouble or not. I just want to know why MI5 just put me on a watchlist for a year!’ Luke growled.

‘What? Tell me they didn’t!’ Liv was once again shocked by this disclosure.

‘Like hell they didn’t!’ 

Liv growled and turned around, stomping back down the walkway.

‘Follow me!’ She called to them from over her shoulder.

‘What? Where are we going?’ Tom jogged up to her side, closely followed by Luke.

‘To have a chat with a certain old lady, and set some things straight, once and for all!’ She grumbled, and kept up her pace.

The two men followed her farther and farther down the lane, until they’d passed all the houses but one.

‘Is this about your Nan?’ Tom asked, slightly subdued.

‘Where are you taking us? We've passed all the residences already. There’s only St. James’s Park over there.’ Luke sounded more skeptical than angry now.

‘Not _all_ the residences.’ Liv said, as she took a left towards a gated guardhouse.

Tom’s steps faltered, and Luke bumped into him from behind.

‘Liv!’ He hissed. ‘Where are you going? You can’t go in there!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *meddler


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family, Answers, Family Answers...

**Chapter 6**

 

‘Like Hell I can’t!’ She yelled back at them, as she threw up her right hand to show how done she was with it all.

Two heavily armed guards stepped out of the darkness to stop her; weapons raised only slightly. She heard a shocked intake of breath from one of the men behind her. 

' _Liv!_ ' Came the hushed voice of Tom. He sounded so very worried about her actions. If she wasn't so angry, she'd have snickered at his apprehension.

‘Hello, gentlemen.’ She said with a wave. The weapons were lowered when the guards recognised her.

‘Hello, ms Wyndham.’ One of the guards greeted, as the other one pressed a button to open the gate to a small degree. The opening was just wide enough to let a person pass.

Liv turned around to her two flabbergasted companions, who were rooted to their spots.

‘If you could show these two gentlemen your ID’s, that would be lovely.’ She said. Her outward appearance was calm and friendly, but inside she was seething.

Tom was the first to stir. He fished his wallet from his pocket, took a few steps forward and handed his ID card to one of the guards. The guard stepped into the guardhouse and scanned the ID. It didn't take him long to return.

‘You were cleared for entry earlier in the day, mr Hiddleston. Have a nice evening.’

‘Uh, yeah, thanks… You too.’ Tom stammered as he watched a very quiet Luke hand over his ID.

‘You’re in luck, mr Windsor, you were cleared for entry, not ten minutes ago. Otherwise we might have had to detain you. You’re a red-flagged person of interest, you know.’ 

Liv saw how Luke paled and took pity on him.

‘Come on, Geoff, don’t torment him like that. I think we both know who is behind this farce.’

‘Sorry, Ma’am.’ Geoff said, clearly not being sorry at all. Liv narrowed her eyes at him. He quickly looked away, with a slight smile on his lips, and visibly suppressed a chuckle.

‘She came by for a chat, didn't she?’ She asked, fuming.

‘She left ten minutes ago, Ma’am.’ 

Liv let out a long suffering sigh.

‘Right, in you go.’ She gestured for Tom and Luke to enter through the gate.

As soon they were through the gate, it shut behind them. This was also the moment that Luke found his voice again.

‘What are we doing here? I demand answers!’ He exclaimed, sounding a bit desperate.

Liv whirled on him.

‘Get in line! You’re not the only one who is livid around here, mr Windsor!’ She hissed at him, and then she turned back to stomp to the kitchen door she had walked out of not fifteen minutes ago.

‘Is this Clarence House?’ Tom asked in wonder, looking up at the facade of the enormous mansion.

‘Yes, it is.’ 

‘And your uncle works here?’

‘In a manner of speaking, yes.’

Liv opened the kitchen door and let the men in.

‘Liv, are you sure we’re allowed in here? This is the residence of the Prince of Wales.’

‘I am aware of that fact.’ She said irritably.

‘We can’t just waltz in here!’ Tom looked around him in an almost panicky state . Taking in the decor in a sort of worried awe. If she hadn't been so pissed off, she’d have found it endearing. 

‘Watch me.’ She growled, and proceeded to waltz through the kitchen, which still smelled of a narrowly avoided bangers and mash disaster, towards the stairs that led up to the main family rooms.

The men followed her up the stairs, albeit ascending a bit more hesitantly than she did.

‘Liv!’ Tom hissed after her.

‘Just follow me.’ She quietly grumbled back at them, as she walked toward the sound of voices, and the giggles of a child, followed by the frustrated whine of a smaller child.

She burst through the doors of the informal dining room, marching in, like a woman possessed. Looking up at her, were the shocked and surprised faces of a few of the highest members of the British Royal Family, who were sitting down for a very late Tea. _Probably thanks to aunt Millie’s cooking endeavours_ , Liv thought, absentmindedly.

She rounded the table to stand in front of her Nan, who was seated at the head, wearing a very amused smile on her face. At seeing that, the dam of her self control burst.

‘Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Mountbatten-Windsor, what did you do, you meddling old woman?! You can’t just go around putting national security on high alert, only because someone googled me one time too many! What were you _thinking_?!’ 

The whole room went completely silent. All eyes were glued to the two magnificent women, who were now almost toe to toe. One of them sitting calm and collected on her chair, and the other one standing, and burning with rage. Even the small children looked on with an entranced sort of curiosity.

Suddenly, a weak voice was heard from the doorway.

‘Oh, dear god.’ A pale Tom Hiddleston lamented, as he took in the scene he'd found when he'd made it through the door.

Liv turned her head to look at him, and saw he looked like was about to faint, or be sick, or both.

Will, her cousin, quickly stood up from his chair and grabbed the distraught man by the arm, leading him back to his chair, and pushing him down.

‘Here, you look like you should sit down.’ He said gently to a completely dumbstruck Tom. ‘Nice to see you again, Tom.’

Tom visibly gulped.

‘You too, your Highness.’ Colour was returning to his face, now that he'd had the time to come to grips with the situation a bit. 

‘What the hell is going on here?!’ Luke croaked. He didn't seem to be faring any better than Tom, and Uncle Charlie offered him his chair, which the man took with a grateful nod; dropping into it heavily, like a sack of potatoes.

Liv had returned to glaring at her Nan, arms crossed in front of her, while her Nan was looking on with mischievously twinkling eyes. 

Although her anger had subsided a bit, Liv wasn't ready to let it go. She was sure the old woman was up to something.

Uncle Charlie took the silence as an excuse to say something. He turned to Tom and Luke.

‘Gentlemen, this must all seem very strange to you.’

‘You have no idea, your Highness.’ Luke mumbled, while he rubbed his forehead as if he was sporting a massive headache. 'All I wanted to know, was, who she,' he pointed at Liv, ‘is, and I've somehow ended up in the twilight zone.'

Charles chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

‘Mr Windsor, Mr Hiddleston, allow me to introduce to you, Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Skye, Lady Olivia Charlotte Victoria Regina FitzClarence-Hanover. Duchess of Clarence, Countess of Munster, Baroness Wyndham-De L’Isle. 

Or, as we lovingly call her in secret, Queen Victoria II.’ Charles winked at Liv, who was left flabbergasted by his formal introduction. 

She didn't carry all those highborn titles. Yes, she had been dubbed Countess Munster and Baroness Wyndham-De L’Isle since her mother passed away, but she did’t carry the other titles. She never had… Unless…

She turned to her Nan. A feeling of dread swirling within her.

‘Please tell me you didn’t do it.’

Nan smiled, looking very smug.

‘Do what, Love?... Oh, the titles? Yes. I did.’

 Liv gasped in horror and shock.

‘When? How?... Why?!'

The Queen kept that infuriatingly pleasant smile firmly in place. Liv hated when she did that.

‘By Royal decree, about a year ago. We kept it quiet so you could finish your degree in peace.’

‘ _Why_ did you do that, Nan? Why wasn't I informed?! Why wasn't I asked!?’ She started to become angry again.

‘I think it’s about time that we stopped hiding half of our family, like it's a dirty, ugly secret, don't you think?’ Nan stayed very calm under her glare.

‘You can't just decide things like that for people, Nan!’ Tears were stinging her eyes.

‘I didn’t decide it for you. It was decided hundreds of years before your birth and there is nothing you or I can do to change that fact. I only lifted the veil.’

‘But... I never asked for this.’

‘Neither did I, Darling, but here we are…’ Her Nan's smile was compassionate. 

Liv's shoulders dropped in defeat. 

The onlookers all watched with rapt attention, until the rapid fire discussion between the two women was interrupted by Tom.

‘Wait, how can Queen Elizabeth be your Nan?’ 

Liv looked at him. Thankfully he seemed to have found his wits again, and had quickly deduced that something was amiss in their claims.

‘She’s actually not. She and my mother were fifth cousins. Uncle Charles is actually my sixth cousin, and he was always close to my mum, who grew up with him like a sister. Because they have been in my life since my birth and I don't have any family left from my mother’s side, they became my Nan and my Uncle, and Harry and Will my cousins; along with the entire Mountbatten-Windsor brood…’

‘But how are you a… princess, then?’

‘Apparently I am a princess, because, as of last year, my family-name was reinstated into the Royal Family, without me being aware of that,  _not so tiny,_ tidbit of information… And neither does anyone else know, but the ones that are here, I’ll bet.’ she glared at her Nan, who smiled serenely.

‘But how are you cousins?’ Tom's right eyebrow raised in his astonishment.

‘Where are we now?’ She fired back a question.

‘Um, London?’

She sighed.

‘No, this residence, silly.’

Tom blushed lightly at her involuntary snicker.

‘Oh, Clarence House.’

‘What is my last name?’

'Wyndham.'

'No, no, not that one. The other one.' Liv had to suppress an eye-roll.

Tom frowned, thinking back at the introduction by her uncle.

‘Fitz…Clarence-Hanover?’

Liv nodded, waiting for the coin to drop.

‘FitzClarence…’ he mused, looking around him.

She could see the cogs turn in his brain.

‘As in Clarence House?’ He sounded puzzled.

Liv nodded encouragingly and could see the exact moment he pieced the puzzle together.

‘Oh my god.’ He breathed as he stared at her and suddenly stood up, his chair toppling over. ‘Oh my god.’ He exclaimed again. His eyes were wide as the enormity of his realisation struck him.

‘You’re the great-granddaughter of the Duke of Clarence, later King William IV! Clarence-Hanover. Oh my god, you’re a descendant of the House of Hanover!’

‘Well, he’s my fourth great-grandfather, but yes, it’s a straight line from him to me.’ 

‘Yes, and if that arse of a great grandfather had married the mother of his children, Olivia would have been the Queen, instead of I, seeing that she's the last descendant in that line.’ Queen Elizabeth commented dryly.

Liv gave her a side glance, the corner of her mouth pulling up a bit.

‘Yes, as I told you on Primrose Hill, a bunch of usurpers, those Windsors, the lot of them.’ She said to Tom, a soft smile playing on her lips. This elicited a few amused chuckles from Charles and Will.

‘Tom, allow me to introduce you to my family. My Nan, Elizabeth, my uncle Charles, aunt Camilla and my cousin William and his wife Kate. These little ones are Georgie and Charlie.’ She pointed at the small children, who had returned to their food, and didn't seem to follow the conversation anymore.

Tom set right his chair and sat down again, looking around the table with a look of utter disbelief on his face. Like he couldn't believe this was actually happening.

‘Hello.’ He said, sounding subdued; the eloquent actor seemed temporarily lost for words.

Liv walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder awkwardly.

‘I’m sorry you had to find out like this.’ She said, feeling strangely sad and empty, after all that had gone down. ‘I’ll understand if you want to leave now. Of course Nan will remove Luke from the _MI5 watchlist_.’ She sent a sharp look to her Nan, who nodded reassuringly; looking slightly contrite about that incident. ‘And you can just go on with your lives like nothing happened.’

Tom looked up at her, hesitantly at first, but when he saw her dejected expression, he seemed to come to a decision.

‘But, we have a table booked at The Clarence.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost ten to eight, if we hurry, we might still get it.’ He'd ignored her offer for an easy exit and she was grateful for it. If she wasn't careful, she might even start crying, now that all the adrenaline had gone from her system. It left her feeling very shaky and vulnerable.

From the corner of her eye, Liv could see her Nan nod approvingly at Tom’s refusal to stand down and leave. She’d always had a weak spot for people with backbone, that woman.

Suddenly Luke started laughing loudly, albeit it didn't sound very amused.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ He hiccupped as everyone turned to him in surprise. ‘From a publicist’s point of view this is hilarious!’

‘Luke…?’ Tom looked at his friend as if he’d gone off his rocker.

‘Oh my god, Tom! Don't you see? You’re a publicist’s fucking wet dream _and_ their worst nightmare! You’re doing my job for me. I mean, you always know how to pick them, don’t you? First the Princess of Pop, last summer, boosting your exposure to the reaches of the outer stratosphere, and now… 

‘Even when you don't have a clue about who she is, you manage to ask out a **real**   _princess_! And not just _a_ princess… Noooo, nothing so normal as a princess, for Thomas William Hiddleston! No, when _you_ accidentally manage to date a princess, you manage to find the freaking Bastard Queen of Great Britain! 

It’s like you’re a homing beacon for Drama!’ Cackling with hysterical laughter he head-desked the dining table, causing little Charlotte to giggle and tap his head with her spoon, smearing mash in his hair.  ‘How the hell am I going to be able to keep this contained and under control? It’s going to be a fucking disaster. My career is over.’ He bemoaned.

The Queen sighed and stood up from her chair. She walked over to the desperate man, and removed the spoon from her great-granddaughter’s hand. With a napkin she cleaned Luke’s hair as well as she could, and then she clasped his shoulder.

‘You and I are going into my son’s study, and have a talk about your client dating my granddaughter, young man.’

Luke looked up at the matriarch with watery eyes and let out a shuddering breath; fighting to get himself under control.

‘Yes, your Majesty.’

Queen Elizabeth turned to Tom and Liv, waving a dismissive hand.

‘You two go to dinner. Tomorrow, we’ll talk.’

She indicated with her head for Luke to follow her out of the room. Luke sprang up and jogged after her. After a few seconds of silence they could hear a door opening and closing down the hall.

‘Well, at least it is never boring in this household, eh, dad?’ Will said to Charles, with a badly suppressed smirk. Next to him, the Duchess of Cambridge, who had been silent until now, hid her face in her napkin, making soft snorting noises, her shoulders shaking with mirth. 

Liv looked from one to the other and huffed.

‘ _Fine_ … It’s a date…' Kate started cackling at this admission and Liv huffed an annoyed, 'And we’re leaving.’ She grabbed Tom’s hand, and pulled him up with relative ease, as he was already halfway rising from his chair.

She hardly gave Tom any chance to throw a quick ‘bye’ and a wave to her family, before she pulled him into the hallway, down the stairs and into the kitchen. When she opened the door to the outside, they could hear the people in the house burst into laughter.

‘Ugh, family…’ Liv grumbled with an eye-roll, and closed the door behind them, with a bit more power than was necessary.

‘Tell me about it.’ Tom sighed, looking like he'd just been through the wringer... And she supposed it had been something akin to that, for him.

She looked up at him and sighed.

‘Let’s go to dinner.’ She said, a slight smile starting on her lips. She was going to forget all that happened, for a few hours, and just enjoy the night out with Tom, she decided.

‘Yes, let’s… Your Majesty…’ Tom’s lips turned up in a mischievous and slightly roguish smile, as he looked down at the woman at his side. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and then held out his elbow for her to take. She snorted at his antics and slipped her hand through the opening between his body and his arm, holding onto him as they stepped into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Clarence. And a bit more background information on our heroine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing, except a box of chocolates that I received as a present, last weekend.
> 
> I make no money from this.
> 
> This is my freaking Sandbox. :)

**Chapter 7**

 

The pub was very crowded, and loud with conversation, laughter and tipsy people, when they walked through the door. 

The owner intercepted them the exact moment they crossed the threshold, and, after a friendly and slightly starstruck greeting, escorted them skilfully through the throng of people, who were congregated around the bar, and ushered Tom and Liv up the stairs, to the upstairs dining area. 

They were seated on a padded corner bench, at a small table, in a quaint little nook that provided a bit of privacy for them. Because the bench was built out of two padded planks, placed in a ninety degree angle from each other, with seating for one person on each plank, they had to slide in one at a time, Tom letting Liv go first. It was quite a cosy fit and Liv’s knees and the top of her thighs lightly pressed into the underside of Tom’s left thigh when he sat down, trying to fold his long legs under the table. 

At first they’d both tried to politely avoid the new intimacy of touching in that way, but when it became clear that they both had to stiffly sit up, and put their legs in weird and uncomfortable positions to keep that up, Liv had burst out in laughter, and they'd then mutually agreed that being comfortable was more important than keeping their legs from touching, and they’d eventually ended up sitting cosily together with slightly tangled legs.

Liv had a sneaking suspicion that her Nan had something to do with the snug seating arrangements, but she kept it to herself as she wasn't really feeling like objecting against being pressed up against the handsome man accompanying her. A slight blush made its way to her cheeks at that thought; the blush thankfully going unnoticed by Tom, because of the low lighting.

The bench was custom built into the nook and because of the depth of said nook, they were shielded from the curious glances of most of the dining clientele. Which turned out to be quite necessary, as Liv had seen a lot of furtive glances being thrown their way while they'd made their way to the stairs. There’d even been a few people in the bar area who had pointed their phones at them, taking pictures and videos, without any stealth whatsoever, when they’d spotted Tom walking by.

‘Well, that was surreal.’ Liv said, when the waiter had left them, after he had taken their drink orders, and they were perusing the dinner menu. 

Tom looked up from his menu and shot her an amused smile.

‘You can say that again. This day will go into the books as one of the most surreal days of my life.’ He chuckled and cast his eyes back to the menu.

Liv’s gaze shot up to his face, which was turned down and relaxed as he read through the dinner options. She laughed softly.

‘Not really what I meant, but I guess you’re right. Your surreal day trumps my surreal moment.’

Tom put down the menu and looked at her, frowning a bit in confusion.

‘Which surreal experience were you talking about?’

She shook her head, and smiled at him being so unaware of all the stares and attention they’d gotten, ever since they’d entered the pub.

‘I was talking about how you, just now, caused swooning in men and women alike; they started staring in awe, and taking photographs and videos, from the moment we entered this pub. I’d read about the reactions of people to your appearance in public, on Tumblr, but to see people react to it in real life, is quite the surreal experience. And a bit unsettling in it’s intensity, I must say.’

‘Oh… That…’ Tom sounded a bit dejected and sighed softly. He gazed down at the table in thought, for a moment, before lifting his eyes to hers, looking simultaneously apologetic and determined. ‘Well, it comes with the territory, I guess. I try to ignore it as much as possible, and just live my life the way I would, if I lived without all the media attention. If you start giving it too much thought, it can become very tedious, very fast. I just accept it as it is, refuse to let it dictate my actions, and move on. It’s the only way to stay sane and keep yourself grounded in the lunacy that is show business.’

Liv nodded thoughtfully, also putting down her menu; leaning her right elbow on the table and placing her chin in her hand.

‘That’s probably the best way to approach it. I’ve been media trained from a young age, so I would know how to behave, in case anyone ever found out who I am... I’ve seen what all the attention can do to a person who isn't prepared for it. My aunt Diana was thrown to the wolves at such a young age, and she had so much trouble handling all that pressure, that in the end she was destroyed by it. I was in my early teens at the time, and it was heartbreaking to witness.’ She blinked away the emotions that thinking of her aunt always brought to the surface, and gave Tom a wobbly smile. ‘I’ve learnt a lot, from watching my family navigate the pitfalls of fame. I think I was very lucky to be the outsider, looking in, instead of having to live under the magnifying glass that is always pointed straight at the Royal family. I have been fortunate enough to be part of that family, without having to watch my every action, from the day I was born.’ She shot him a mischievous grin. ‘And now I’m too old to give a shite about what anyone thinks of me. So, bring it on.’

Tom smiled at her sassiness.

‘You’re not that old. I’ll bet that you’re quite a few years younger than I am.’

‘You better not bet on that, you’ll lose.’ She laughed at his raised eyebrows. ‘I’ll be thirty-five in three weeks.’

‘Really?’

‘Really, really.’

‘But your background check brought up that you graduated with a masters degree from uni in, what was it… 2009? That would make you about thirty or thirty-one, now. Not thirty-five.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly paid attention to Luke’s findings, haven't you?’ She teased.

‘Oh… I… Um…’  Tom looked quite embarrassed and a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

‘You sound almost disappointed that I’m not as young as you thought I was.’ She couldn't help teasing him a bit more, a humorous smile playing around her lips.

His hands shot up in a apologetic gesture.

‘What? Oh, no, no, I’m not disappointed. Just a bit confused about it not adding up.’

Liv nodded and sat back, dropping her hands to her lap and leaning her head against the rough wall behind her.

‘That would be correct. You’re missing about four years of me being a prissy adolescent, playing at being an adult.’

‘So you took some time off after graduating high school? Like a sabbatical?’

She laughed.

‘Yes, you could call it that… a sabbatical.’

Their drinks arrived, a white wine for Liv and a lager for Tom, and they gave the waiter their food order. It all took just a few minutes, and before long they were alone again.

Tom took a deep drink from his lager, and Liv couldn't help but stare transfixed as his throat worked to swallow the cold liquid. She blinked, and shook herself mentally out of her trance, when he sat the glass down again. She took a sip of her wine to distract herself. 

He licked his lips and turned his full attention back to her.

‘Four years is quite the sabbatical. Did you travel a lot?’

She chuckled and put her wineglass back on the table, rolling the stem between her fingers, as she thought about how tell him about her ‘sabbatical’. She thought it important that he knew about her past, before they took things any further; if that was what they both wanted.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Can’t say I travelled a lot in those years. I worked at Dunvegan castle, on Skye, after my graduation. It was supposed to be only a year, to gain some work experience, and to discover what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Of course it didn't pan out how I imagined. But life never really does, doesn't it?’ Liv sighed and shrugged. ‘Long story short, It was the summer of two-thousand-one, and I had turned nineteen, two months before I started working at Dunvegan. The world was at my feet and I was cocky as Hell. Smart mouthed and thinking that I knew everything there was to know about life.

'I fell in love with one of my brother’s childhood friends, who was nine years my senior, and who had only just returned to Skye after an absence of a decade. He had started traveling the world, climbing mountains and having all these amazing adventures, from the moment he'd graduated high school. To me he was a man of the world, with a passion for adventure, and with so many stories to tell. He started working at the mountain rescue centre that summer, and he gave lectures to tourists who came to the island, about its history and its mountains. The lectures were in one of the Castle halls, and that’s how we met. Turns out the infatuation was mutual.

'Six months later we eloped and three months after that I was pregnant. My father and brothers were absolutely incensed, but I was an adult, so there was nothing they could do to annul the marriage. Eventually they accepted it and things were good... Until I lost the baby... After that, the relationship just withered away. We fought a lot. He wanted me to stay at home and have another baby, but I didn't want that anymore, not after… Well, not after.

'I wanted to go to university and do something with my life. Make my own way. After the miscarriage, and the implosion of the relationship, it took me over a year to gather the courage to leave and start over. I was twenty-two years old when I filed for divorce, and four-and-a-half months after it was finalised, I started my studies at St Andrews. And here we are, twelve years, a bachelors degree, a masters degree, and a Phd, later. Slàinte!’

She raised her glass with a trembling hand, to a visibly shaken Tom, and took a big gulp from the wine. It burned all the way down to her stomacg. She’d told him a lot more than what she was usually comfortable with sharing, and it made her anxious about his reaction. What was it about this man that brought out her sharing side? She never was this open about her past, or her family; especially not with people she’d just met. And here she was, taking him to her family, without even contemplating the consequences, and then proceeding to tell him more about her rough past than she'd planned beforehand... Things were moving quite fast, and it didn't feel wrong, per se, just a bit unsettling in its swiftness.

Tom moved his left hand to where her right hand was tightly balled up in her lap. Her knuckles were white from the strain she put on them. He gently untangled her fist and took her hand in his big, warm hand, massaging the top with his thumb, causing it, and her, to relax a bit. 

Liv stared at their entangled hands, and then let her gaze travel up to Tom’s face. The expression she found, wasn't the anger or shock and disapproval she was expecting. His eyes were soft and compassionate, as he expelled a shuddering breath.

‘I’m so sorry you lost your child. I can’t even imagine the devastation it must have brought to your heart, and to your life.’ His voice was gentle as he gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

Liv looked at him with wide eyes, and a sigh, which sounded more like a sob, made its way out of her chest. 

‘I… Thank you.’ She was grateful for his calm and compassionate acceptance of her complicated past. She was well aware -and she almost surely knew he was too- that, if they were serious about pursuing the spark that was between them, it could easily turn into a paparazzi nightmare for him, causing irreparable damage to his career, but he wasn't running… Yet. 

She decided to give him another out, if he wanted one.

‘I’d understand if you’d want to leave, and I wouldn't hold it against you. After meeting my family tonight, and me throwing this messy past of mine onto your plate, I can imagine it being a bit too much to deal with. Especially when it could turn into a PR nightmare for you, for your career…’ She trailed off as she kept her gaze down and tried to pull her hand from his. He refused to let her go.

‘Olivia, look at me.’

She let her gaze travel up from their hands, over his broad shoulders and his chiseled jaw, until her eyes met his. He leaned toward her and his face was serious.

‘If you think that anything that you’ve shown, or told me, tonight, is going to scare me off, or make me recoil in disgust or shock, you’re wrong. I’m not some boy who hasn't lived his life yet, or who is intimidated by your baggage. Or is afraid of what it would mean for his so-called image. 

I’m a grown man, with plenty of baggage of my own, and I know how life works, and how to discern between someone broken and someone who is a survivor. What I see in you, is a woman who, in spite of the darkness that life has thrown at her, has emerged from a devastating period in her life, victoriously. You did not only survive, you thrived. Taking your life into your own two hands, and turning it from desperation, into something to be proud of, by sheer force of will; pushing on, and building something that is entirely your own; that’s not something that scares me. That’s something that tells me that you’re a woman who would fight through the storms of life, and come out the other side, stronger than before. Someone I would be proud to call my friend.’

Liv gave him a slightly crooked smile to hide how his words almost made her cry in relief.

‘So, you want to be _just_ my friend?’ She inquired sceptically, a teasing note in her voice.

Tom chuckled, his eyes crinkling in amusement at her attempt to diffuse the intense atmosphere.

‘Well, it would be bad form to assume anything more at this point in our acquaintance. We've only met this afternoon after all. I am aware that your Nan and my publicist are probably already plotting out our entire lives, from tonight onwards, but at this moment I would be happy with you agreeing to go on a date, and then just winging it from there.’ 

‘Why, mr Hiddleston, are you asking me out on a real date?’ Liv joked, as her heart fluttered in her chest. She was feeling a bit lightheaded and giddy after all the heavy talk of the night.

‘I guess I am… Ms Wyndham, allow me to ask you the way a woman of your station should be addressed. Your Grace… My Lady FitzClarence-Hanover, would you be so inclined as to accompany me to dinner tomorrow night? And maybe go to a club and dance afterwards?’ He bent over at the waist and pressed his lips to her hand, while looking up at her through his lashes, with twinkling blue eyes.

Liv snorted and a naughty giggle escaped her when he straightened up again.

‘Oh gods, Tom, that was so cheesy.’ Her laugh was carefree and happy again.

‘I aim to please.’ He quipped with a smile; visibly happy that he had been able to distract her from her sad memories. ‘Still waiting for an answer, though.’

A warmth spread through her at the sweetness of the man in front of her.

‘I’d love to go on a date with you, Tom.’ She smiled widely and he answered with a delighted grin. ‘Don’t really know what to call this night then…’ She trailed off and raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Well, we could call it a… rehearsal. Of sorts…’ Tom offered.

‘If you like.’

‘Oh, I like.’ That man’s voice should be illegal.

She shot tom a quick amused grin as their food arrived. 

The waiter wished them bon appetite, and they both dug in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money from this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox.

**Chapter 8**

 

Liv tucked into her food and found her fish and chips to be of superior quality. The chef in this place really knew his food stuffs. 

Her body was happy with the sustenance. She hadn't had anything to eat since two o’clock that afternoon, when she had hastily eaten a cereal bar for a snack, during a short break on a bench, which had been located to the side of a path that ran along the river Thames. 

After that, she’d walked for another two hours to Primrose Hill, and then there was the bustle of coming home to a house filled with family, and then there had been the dressing up for dinner, of course. By the time Tom and she had arrived at the pub, she’d been quite famished.

They were quiet for some time as they enjoyed their food and drink, sporadically commenting on the food, the drink and the choice venue.

When they were almost finished eating, Liv decided to bring up their 'second' first date again.  
‘So, dinner and then clubbing, eh? It’s been a long time since I went dancing.’ She sighed contentedly, both from looking forward to dancing, and from having finally eaten her full.

‘How long is a long time?’ Tom asked, raising his right eyebrow, before eating a piece from the grilled chicken breast he’d ordered.

Liv chewed, and swallowed a last piece of fish, which was succulent and tasteful, and pulled a face at his question.

‘Hm, too long. The past few years have mostly consisted of my studies, and traveling all over Europe for research, and occasionally getting a pint at the local pub, if there were people I knew in one city or another. 

Other than that, there were a couple of Uni gala’s, but, as I was part of the staff, it was more a chaperone duty than anything else. No real chances to put the dancing shoes on; not in the least because a lot of our archaeology staff consists of elderly men and women who aren't into the whole modern dance music thing.’ She snickered. ‘Can’t imagine seeing them letting loose on the beats of a deejay track.’ 

Tom nodded in understanding and took a swig of his beer.

‘Cambridge was the same. Mostly the students went to nightclubs and busy pubs and cafes with loud music and the staff and PHD candidates were more of a quiet pub crowd.’

‘And ne’er they shall meet.’ Liv joked with a smile, saluting him with her wineglass and taking a sip.

‘Well, we shall just have to remedy that dancing dry spell of yours. Do you know ‘The Ministry of Sound’?’ 

‘That’s that nightclub on the South Bank, right? I’ve heard Harry and Bea talk about it. They were quite taken by the venue.’

Tom cleared his throat and chuckled.

‘Yes, that’s the one. It’s great. A large open floor and fantastic music for dancing. When you say Harry and Bea, you mean…’

‘Harry of Wales and Beatrice of York. My cousins. Yes.’ Liv softly smiled at the sudden fluster he tried to hide behind a swig of lager. ‘I’m sorry, Tom, for throwing you head first into this family of mine. My temper got the better of me, when Luke mentioned MI5 harassing him.  I shouldn't have put all this on you like that, not when we don't even know each other that well. I was planning on telling you about my circumstances eventually, because, well, it’s not something one can hide forever, but not tonight.’

Tom let out a breathy laugh.

‘Well, at least were on even footing now. You know about my fame, and I know about your high profile family. We both have enough experience between us, to deal with anything that comes up PR wise. I think we’ll be okay.  I do have to admit, I’m a bit off-kilter, because of everything that has happened tonight, but I’m also very glad that you have experience with handling extraordinary situations, and that you’re not a novice to media training. 

'I know it’s not a fun thing to discuss this early in our… acquaintance, but it is a part of my life that can't be ignored. We’ve been spotted tonight and I know there will be lots of media interest in my wining and dining an unknown, beautiful woman. You will have to be prepared to see speculation about Tom and his mystery brunette in the coming days. It’s something that can’t be avoided, I’m afraid.’ He had an apologetic expression on his face.

Liv dipped a chip in the remnants of the delectable tartar sauce on her plate, and bit off a piece of the golden, and crispy, fried potato. It didn't escape her that he’d called her beautiful so effortlessly. It gave her a warm feeling inside that he’d said it without any pretence or agenda; it came out all natural and sincere.

Chewing, she tilted her head to the left and looked at Tom thoughtfully. After she swallowed she pulled up the corner of her mouth in a wry smile.

‘I knew who you were, the moment I heard your voice today, and turned around to see you standing there. I knew there could be consequences to the accepting of your invitation. I dread the intrusion of the media into my private life, especially in the light of what happened to my aunt, but I still accepted the proposal to grab a bite to eat. I think that says it all, don't you? 

'I’d love to get to know you better, and if that puts me in the crosshairs of the media, well, then that’s just something I’ll have to learn to deal with, isn't it? I’ve been very lucky, to live thirty-five years in peace from the media, while my Nan and aunts and uncles and cousins have had a turbulent past. And you heard Nan, as of a couple of months ago, I’ve been officially reinstated back into the royal family, and if her pulling Luke into a PR meeting tonight is anything to go by, I won’t have my peace for much longer. I think she’s been planning, for longer than I’d like to contemplate, for me to be more involved with royal duties, and taking over a few public tasks from Katie, now that she has two small children to care for. It’s been weighing on her that she doesn't have more time with them.

'Maybe I should be asking you, if _you_ are sure that you are ready to be involved with a descendant of the house of Hanover, who is about to be thrust into the spotlight. I think the discovery of a royal princess, who has lived in ‘exile’ for most of her life, will trump you dating a new girl, media scoop wise, mr Hiddleston. Are you ready for being dragged into that media circus? Paps are going to be zeroing in on me, like vultures on a cadaver.’ The thought alone made her shiver in trepidation. Nope, she wasn't looking forward to that. At. All.

Tom stared at her, wide-eyed, and flabbergasted.

‘Shit.’ was all he said, his voice a bit breathless with realisation.

‘Indeed.’ She sighed. ‘So, Tom, if you feel the need to get as far away from me as possible, I will not blame you.’

He shook his head with a very Loki-esque smile.

‘I never shy away from a challenge, my Lady. Especially not this one.’ He had the audacity to wink at her.

Liv didn't back down and gave tit for tat; her voice a provocation.

‘Talking about challenges; how _does_ one do ‘high profile dating’, with the media breathing down ones neck? I hear you’re experienced.’ Only after the words had left her mouth, she realised they'd sounded very callous, even when she hadn't meant it like that. His expression changed immediately.

Shite.

‘I’m sorry. That was too far.’ her voice was soft and apologetic, a nervous tremor running down her spine. He had every right to be upset with her, someone who didn't even know him, for bringing up something that must still chafe.

She had to give the man credit where it was due, though, he recovered himself admirably from the painful surprise brought on by her remark. 

His eyes darkened as he sat up a bit, and bent his head, while gazing at her with a frown pulling on his lips.

‘I think you’re referring to my… dalliances from last summer?’ His voice was low and introspective.

Liv nodded silently, biting her lip, and sending him a shy and apologetic expression; hoping she hadn't crossed an invisible line, and ruined the night, by driving him away with her careless choice of words.

Thankfully he didn't seem angry with her, just a bit dejected.

‘Well, I’m not going to spill on the ex, if you don’t mind, but last summer was a crazy ride, even in my life. Paparazzi was everywhere. They invaded the village where my mum lives, and photographed my sister, _and_ my five year old niece, while they were there. That was a terrible occurrence, that I don't want to see repeated, ever. I may live my life partly in the spotlights, due to my job -and I accept that it comes with the territory-, but my family doesn’t, and it was a breach of privacy I find abhorrent.’ 

He was getting visibly upset, and Liv could see the blame that he put on himself. She put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

‘I’m so sorry that such a thing happened to you, Tom, but it wasn't your fault. It wasn't something that you could have foreseen. You didn't have any experience with the ferocity of the media, when it came to your girlfriend, and who she dates. If anything, she’s the one who’s lived like that for a long time, and she, or one of her PR people, should have warned you about it, before you went to visit your mum. Before it became an issue.’

Tom sighed and studied his hands.

‘I know, my mum said the same thing. Until this day I still have no idea how the media got wind of that visit. I was so careful when we traveled, and then suddenly there they were.’ The suspicion that someone in his ex-girlfriend’s posse had tipped them off, remained unspoken between them, but Liv understood from the heavy silence, that, after all that had gone down, Tom now had his doubts about the girl, and her intentions, as well.

He looked up at her and gave her right hand, which was still on his shoulder, a small pat.

‘All I can say is, you can’t let the media get to you, and you just have to live your life as you would have, if they weren't there. Ignore them as much as you can, and don’t read what is printed about you. Give your family the heads up about the high probability of you appearing in the tabloids, and tell them to not believe a thing they read about you, or the people you’re linked to. That’s it, really. At the end of the day, you’re the only one who knows the truth, and that’s going to have to be enough. You just have to grow thicker skin than you ever had before… God, that sounds so sad…’ He chuckled a bit forlornly. ‘Not how I had imagined this dinner to go.’

Liv tilted her head and pulled a funny face, wrinkling her nose, pulling her eyebrows up high, crossing her eyes and sticking out the tip of her tongue at him. Tom looked at her, raising a brow, before barking out a surprised laugh, breaking the depressed atmosphere that lay over their conversation.

‘What? Why are you laughing? You don't like my paparazzi-face?’ Liv grinned. ‘I happen to think it’s dashing.’

‘It will undoubtedly cause a ruckus if you’re photographed like that.’

‘Yup.’ She made the ‘p’ pop. ‘That’s my name; Olivia ‘Ruckus’ Wyndham.’ She grinned mischievously at him, over the rim of her wine glass, before she emptied it of the last of her drink, and sat the glass down on the table.

‘In all seriousness, though. I’m sorry for saying anything about your relationship with _her,_ so callously. I have a tendency to put my foot in my mouth sometimes, no matter how many lessons in etiquette my Nan has drilled into my head. My filter just falls away and I fuck things up.’

‘Never a dull moment with you, eh?’ Tom sent her a small smile, his eyes crinkling in amusement. It looked like she was forgiven. _Phew._

‘Or so I’ve heard when I was younger. The past couple of years I’ve been a bit drab, though. Too many dusty libraries and archaeology departments in my itinerary.’

Tom was chuckling at her self deprecating humour when the waiter came over to clear away their now empty plates, and asked if they wanted any dessert. 

After careful consideration of the dessert menu, and taking into account that they were both already quite full from dinner, they decided on a lovely sounding trio of desserts -brownies, salted caramel profiteroles and lemon tart with vanilla pod ice-cream- to share. It didn't take long to arrive, and after dividing the different desserts between them, they both dug in.

‘ooh, I just love pudding. Too bad it always goes straight to my arse.’ Liv sighed before she took a bite from the bit of brownie, combined with the vanilla pod ice-cream, she had just scooped onto her spoon. A soft moan escaped her as she licked the remnants of the decadently sweet dessert from the spoon. ‘I take that back. I don't care where it goes. So worth it.’ 

‘Your arse is fine.’ Tom mumbled around an upside down spoonful of lemon tart. ‘And so is this tart.’

Liv’s gaze shot up to his, from where she had been butchering her part of the delectable brownie, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

‘Why, mr Hiddleston, have you been checking out my derriere?’ She asked jokingly in a posh high class accent. ‘How very gauche. I was _assured_ that you were a gentleman, with a spotless reputation.’ 

She put another piece of brownie into her mouth, folding her tongue around the spoon and licking it clean while another groan of pleasure escaped her. This one might or might not have been intentional. She didn't know why she was so free around him; usually she was a bit more reserved. Somehow his presence called out her inner tease.

‘Darling, you have no idea how wrong those assurances are.’ He grinned a dangerous looking grin, rubbing his leg against hers under the table. It felt unbelievably intimate. Butterflies exploded in her tummy, when she saw how the blue of his irises was almost completely swallowed by the black of his fully dilated pupils. 

‘Reputations are built on hear-say, and I have a PR firm working hard on keeping my rep spotless, and the hear-say positive. Usually I’m very discreet and I’ve never given them much trouble, not even when you count last summer, but if you keep moaning like that, _in public_ , I can assure you, they’re going to earn their keep thrice over.’ His eyes burned into hers as his tongue shot out to quickly lick his lower lip. He looked positively devilish.

A gasp escaped Liv as she looked up at him with big eyes.

‘Holy shit…’ She breathed. ‘No wonder they pay you the big bucks.’ A giggle escaped her when she saw the moment it became clear to him that she wasn't buying into his whole bad boy ploy. ‘That was… Awesome. A bit much… but awesome.’

Tom pulled a face before sighing and taking another bite of his dessert.

‘Great, the girl is immune to my wiles.’ he grumbled good-naturedly, suppressing a smile.

‘Oh, no, not at all. I’ve found that I’m _very_ susceptible. I just see through the bullshit.’ Liv grinned, and pushed her plate towards him. ‘You can have the rest if you want, I couldn't eat another bite.’ She had sampled a few bites from all three desserts, but those last few morsels were enough to fill her up.

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ He finished his own dessert and then started polishing off the rest of hers.

‘How do you stay so fucken _slim_? You eat like a horse.’ She jealously watched him eat the delicious treats.

‘I have a high metabolism. I have to keep eating throughout the day, otherwise I start burning muscle tissue and I end up becoming thin as a rail.’ He took another bite and looked at her. ‘So… You see though the bullshit, huh? How did you come by that superpower?’

‘Apart from the thirty-five years of life experience, the failed marriage, and growing up with four older brothers, you mean?’

‘You have… four… older brothers?’ Tom suddenly looked a bit pale.

‘Yes, but they're harmless. Giants, like you; but harmless. Most of the time…’ She couldn't help but tease him a bit, and snickered when she saw him swallow the last of her dessert with a bit more effort than the other bites he’d taken.

‘So, I don't just have a Queen and the rest of the Royal family to appease, but also four,  _big,_ older brothers.’

‘And my dad. He’s a laird.’

‘And your dad… he is a… laird.’ He deadpanned.

‘Yes, Laird Macleod. He and my brothers all live up in the Highlands.’

‘You’re a descendant of English kings and Scottish lairds.’

‘Yes.’

‘Wow… I’m feeling a bit underdressed, title wise, to be honest.’ 

Liv snickered.

‘If you’re a good boy, and keep up the fantastic work in the arts, I’m sure Nan would be happy to grant you a title, somewhere in the future.’ She threw him a wink. ‘I could put in a good word for you.’ 

Tom laughed and shook his head at her jest. He wasn't deterred by it, though.

‘But if you have four older brothers, how are you the heir to all those titles you have. Wouldn't they be first in line?’

‘Oh, they get all the Scottish titles. Don't worry, all four of ‘em are set for life. 

The titles I have, Lady FitzClarence, Countess of Munster and Baroness Wyndham-De L’Isle, are inherited from my mother. Those go from mother to eldest daughter, or to eldest granddaughter. Nan set that up, many years before I was born. And now I have Duchess of Clarence and Princess of Skye to add to that, thanks to our meddling Queen. I’ve tried so hard to stay away from all forms of that entitled royalty rubbish, but it looks like my luck has run out.

'Unlike you, I might add. You still have time to run, Tom. Go fast and far and don't look back.’ She meant it as a joke, but there was a smidgen of seriousness at its core.

Tom frowned at her.

‘That’s about the third, or fourth, time that you've tried to scare me off tonight. If you hadn't told me that you’re interested in seeing where this thing between us might go, I’d be very put off by your standoffish behaviour. 

'I’ve said it before and I will say it again. I’m not going anywhere, Olivia. No matter how hard you try to warn me away from you. I understand that you do it out of some misplaced urge to try and protect me from any negative fallout, but that won’t be necessary. I’m a grown man, who is closer to forty than to thirty. I know my own mind, and I know what I want. And what I want, is to take you out tomorrow, and maybe again next week, and the week after that, and so forth, consequences be damned. I’ll… We’ll, deal with those, if, and when, they occur, and not a moment sooner. I won’t let the media, or anyone else for that matter, stop me from getting to know the most interesting woman I’ve met in a long time... If you’ll let me.’

Liv watched his face, as he passionately argued his case; it came alive when he talked so ardently, his eyes glittering. 

_If you’ll let me_. That was what eventually convinced her that he was serious. He asked her if she was willing to pursue a relationship with him, and offered to step away if she asked him to, if she told him ‘no’. There was no egoism or entitlement in that statement. He’d told her what he wanted, and left the decision to accept or decline, to her. 

But, oh, that little nagging voice in the back of her head, that was telling her this was a mistake, that it wasn't serious, was hard to silence, and she started to doubt again. She bit her lip as she contemplated what he'd said.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money with this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox. I like my Sandbox.

**Chapter 9**

 

He looked tense while he awaited her verdict; the skin around his eyes was tight, as he nervously moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

Could it be that the intensity of the attraction she felt toward him, was more mutual than she’d reckoned? How could he be interested in her, a thirty-something book nerd who liked hiking and archaeology and academics, when he could have any woman he wanted? When women who were younger, and more beautiful, and undoubtedly more talented than she was, were ready to fall at his feet.

‘Wow… This is so surreal…’ She trailed off as she regarded him, still not really believing what he’d just told her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was faster and held up her hand to stop him from talking. ‘You have to realise that to me, this is bizarre. You, a handsome, intelligent and highly successful man, who could have any woman in the world, are interested in… me… of all people. 

'I mean, I like to read books. I go hiking into the wild whenever I can. I dig up old stuff from the sand and clay, coming home at the end of the day, exhausted and wet, in baggy and muddy clothes. I bury myself in research all the time. I almost never wear any makeup and mostly can’t be arsed to do anything else to my hair than either let it hang loose, or put it up in a pony tail.

'How can that compare to the thin, tall, glamorous and talented women you’re used to? I’m just homely, frumpy, me. I barely top at five foot five and I’m curvy enough to be called chubby. Why would you want to be with me? I’m nothing special…’

She let out a soft squeak when Tom pushed the table slightly away from them and suddenly reached for her, pulling her into his lap, her legs parting to rest on the outside of his, and, in the same movement, turning his back to the room, scooting as far into the alcove as he could; shielding them from curious eyes as much as he was able to.

‘What are you doing?!’ Liv whispered, dumbfounded, her eyes wide with shock.

‘Making sure Luke has to work for the fortune I pay him each month.’ He whispered back, closing the distance between them so fast that she went a bit crosseyed.

‘Oh…’ Was all she could get out before his lips were on hers, soft, but firm; his arms wrapping themselves around her back, pulling her closer against him. He groaned softly when her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, her fingers burying themselves in the curls at the back of his head. His tongue flicked out between his lips and caressed her lower lip in a bid to tempt her to allow him access to her mouth. Eagerly she parted her lips and deepened the kiss, meeting his tongue with hers.

His hands slid down to her hips and he pulled her further onto his lap, until her hips were flush with his. He rocked his pelvis into hers gently. Oh… _Hello_ … Someone was excited.

A shock of heat went through Liv as she broke away from the kiss to look at Tom with wide eyes.

His pupils were blown wide as he gazed at her, his lips glistening and slightly swollen from their kiss.

‘That’s how much I want to be with you.’ His voice was soft, and deep, and husky. ‘But the physicality is not the extent of it. I like that you’re bookish, and studious, and a good conversationalist, and witty, and, also, that you can be unintentionally crude sometimes. 

'I like that you go out into the world on your own; that you don't let the fact that you're alone, stop you from doing what you want to do. I like that you're strong enough to handle an extraordinary family, and then some. I like that that family loves you, no matter what; it tells me how extraordinary _you_ are.I like your loyalty to your loved ones and I like that despite that loyalty, you're not afraid to call them out on their bullshit when it’s necessary.

'Jesus, woman, you called out the fuckin’ _Queen_ of Britain tonight, just because you didn't like what she’d done. I know she’s sort of your Nan, but… _Fuck_.’ He let out a shuddering breath before he continued. ‘That takes guts.’

‘When I look at you, I see a woman who is strong enough to build a new life from the ashes of an old one, on her own merit, without any help or money from her family, and still succeed, in spite of the odds being against her.

That is something I admire greatly. You’re an independent, courageous and sagacious woman, with nerves of steel and an iron will power, especially when it comes to standing up against things you disagree with.’

Tom gave her a soft kiss on the lips and then trailed kisses along her cheek to the underside of her ear. The sensations he caused with his actions, made it hard for her to concentrate on what he was saying.

‘You are someone I want, and _need,_ in my life, and all I can do is hope, that _I_ am someone you want, and need, in _your_ life, too.’ He said softly next to her ear. His breath tickling the sensitive skin there, giving her goosebumps on her arms. 

She shivered, and the tremor that ran through her body made her pelvic bone involuntarily shift against the hard ridge in his trousers, making him growl deeply in his throat; his hands tightening on her hips.

‘And, darling, I love your curves.’ His voice was rough when he slid his hands down over the generous curve of her bum and spread his fingers to give her a soft squeeze. ‘Especially your delectable arse.’ He leaned back a bit to look at her, and shot her a naughty grin, before giving her another heated kiss.

Liv was a little out of breath when he pulled back; excitement and warmth, and feverish arousal, flooding her body. She bit her lower lip as she gazed into his eyes. She could feel a blush creep up her cheeks when she suddenly realised the compromising position they were in. The alcove gave them a bit of privacy, but not enough to be completely shielding them from the other patrons. His broad back and shoulders did a good job hiding her from curious eyes, but there was no mistaking her knees peaking out on either side of his hips or her hands playing with the curls on the back of his head.

‘Wow, Hiddleston, you _do_ have a way with words, don’t you?’ She breathed, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

‘Not just with words…’ He shot back, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling lasciviously and sliding his hands up to her waist slowly, his thumbs caressing the skin of her tummy just above the waistband of her jeans.

A husky laugh escaped her, when she jumped from the sudden skin to skin contact, and she gently tugged at his ear in retaliation.

‘Behave, Hiddleston. Or we’ll be thrown out of this respectable establishment.’ 

‘To quote a certain Lady from this evening; I don’t care, totally worth it.’ He gave her a quick kiss on her nose and lifted her off his lap; depositing her back on her seat with an ease that proved those muscles on his upper body weren't just for show. 

Liv raised an eyebrow at his show of strength.

‘Impressive moves y…’ It was supposed to come out teasingly, but halfway through the word ‘you’, a massive yawn took away her breath and she covered her mouth with a hand. It looked like the busy day had caught up with her.

‘How about we put that train of thought on hold and I walk you home? I’ll save my impressive moves for another day. After all those miles you’ve walked today, and all the excitement of the night, you must be exhausted.’ Tom tilted his head inquiringly and she nodded gratefully at his suggestion, suppressing a second yawn behind her hand. Tom waved discreetly at the waiter and requested to settle the bill.

Before she knew it, she’d grabbed her bag from where it had fallen to the floor and then Tom was helping her into her jacket. They were escorted back through the pub by the owner, who then bade them a very cordial good night at the front door.

Liv had seen the furtive glances that had been thrown their way when they’d walked to the exit. Again, people had their phones out, taking pictures and -undoubtedly- filming Tom as he walked by. She was grateful that no-one approached them, which had probably more to do with the tall and broadly built pub owner throwing warning glances at them, than that people had graciously decided to give Tom his privacy. 

The moment they were out the door, Tom let out a relieved sigh. Liv suspected that he’d also seen the phones and the giddy eagerness of the crowd when they'd spotted him.

‘Is it always like this when you go out?’ She asked quietly, looking up at him with a sympathetic expression on her face.

He seemed tense as he glanced back at the pub, probably fearing that people would follow them out. His posture relaxed when he saw that the pub owner had taken up guarding the door, while they were still standing outside, effectively blocking anyone who had it in their mind to follow the movie star and his date, as they made their way home.

‘Not always, but often. It becomes tiring at times. Especially when I just want a nice night out with a lovely woman.’ He gazed down at her with a slight smile on his face.

Liv took his hand and pulled him along.

‘Well, lets go then. Before people start following us around and find out where I’m staying. I’d like to stay incognito for as long as I can. Or, at least, until my Nan decides to push me into taking up some Royal Duties.’ She pulled a face at the thought. ‘I’m sure that that will be like dropping a nuclear bomb onto the media. It’ll be chaos.’ Glancing at Tom, she gave him a wry smile. ‘You sure you’ll be up for that? We’ll both be on the receiving end of quite some backlash. First, me, for being not up to par with your former girlfriends and then snatching up the internet’s boyfriend, and, later on, you, for dating a Royal. They’ll probably accuse you of trying to marry up, or something equally ridiculous.’ She sighed. ‘I just hope Nan will give me, give us, some time to ourselves, so we can get to know each other, without the media following our every move.’

Tom slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. He kissed her temple and nuzzled into her hair.

‘We’ll be fine, darling. We’ll figure it out as we go and take it one day at a time.’

Liv leaned into him and put her arm around his waist, snuggling up to the tall man, who had turned her world upside down within one day. One afternoon, even. How did that even happen? 

‘You always work this fast, Hiddleston?’ She jokingly said, but she was certain he’d heard the serious undertone behind the question.

He sighed, apparently not surprised by her inquiry.

‘I never used to, but with how hectic my life has become over the past few years, it just left me no choice but to move fast in my relationships. I’m away from home so much and I’m never in the same place for more than a few weeks. If I meet someone I like, I have to move fast to see if we match, otherwise I’m off again, without even knowing if there could have been a chance for _more_.’ He rubbed a hand over his cheek and then raked it through his hair, obviously uncomfortable with how he thought she must be perceiving this unconventional approach in his past relationships. ‘Last summer was the culmination of that lifestyle, and it left me with a painful experience and a bad aftertaste. It’s something that I do not want a repeat of. And I have held off on dating like that again, for some time now. 

‘That said, I have the coming three to four months off, barring a few guest appearances at radio and television shows. So, knowing that, and taking into account that you’re done with your dissertation, and your studies, until, at least, the beginning of June, and maybe even beyond, I’m going to try and get comfortable with taking my time in getting to know you better, without having the narrow time limit that has hampered my dating life in the past.’ He tightened his arm around her shoulders to emphasise his words. ‘So, what do you say, is it okay if I come visit you in Oxford in the coming weeks? and vice versa, of course, you’re very welcome to visit me in London. We could even go away for a weekend, or something like that.’ He sounded so shy at that moment that it was impossible for her not to hug him for all she was worth. 

She halted their stroll and wrapped both her arms around him, burying her face in his coat, breathing in his cologne and that musky scent of his that made her heart beat faster, and caused a flutter in her tummy. His arms hesitatingly folded around her, until he was hugging her as tightly as she was him.

When she let him go, she lifted her head and beamed at him.

‘I’d love to, Tom.’ She said. ‘I was planning on going up to Scotland for a few days, in the coming weeks. Would you be up for a road trip and some hardcore hiking and wild camping?’

They resumed walking when a pedestrian almost walked into them and grumbled something about bloody tourists. 

Tom tilted his head in thought, as his hand rubbed up and down her upper arm.

‘Well,’ He said. ‘I have to be up in Manchester on the thirty-first of March, for a radio interview. I was planning on flying there, but if you’re okay with a short delay for me to do some promotional work, we could make it a road trip and drive all the way up to Manchester, and then to Scotland from there. What do you say?’

Liv could feel the giddy flutters in her tummy return at the thought of a road trip with this captivating man. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from squeeing and nodded enthusiastically.

‘That would be fantastic. How about we spend a few days in the Lake District, to break up the journey? It’s lovely there, at the beginning of April. That way, we’ll drive half the way on the thirty-first and then the rest a few days later.’ 

Tom smiled and hugged her to him with one arm.

‘That sounds great. Allow me to book a B&B for our time in the Lake District. I know a lovely Inn there.’ 

She laughed.

‘Staving off the camping for a few more nights, eh?’ Teasingly she elbowed him in the ribs.

He grinned.

‘Well, I said I’d go hardcore wild camping with you, in _Scotland_. And so I am. But the Lake District is not Scotland.’

She snorted at that. 

‘No, it most definitely is not.’ 

‘Ooh, that almost sounded snobbish, darling.’ He chuckled. ‘Watch out that you don’t tread on English sensibilities.’

‘Well, The Lake District is lovely and all, But it has nothing on the Highlands.’ She countered, knowing full well that the two places were equals in beauty and splendour. She just couldn’t help but tease Tom.

He let his hand slide from her shoulder to her side and pinched lightly, earning himself a squeak and an involuntary laugh from Liv.

‘Ah, the little, irreverent minx is ticklish, is she?’ He rumbled in her ear, sounding highly amused. He pressed his fingers into her side again.

She groaned at the feeling and butted him with her shoulder as she tried to get away from the offending hand.

‘Shit, that’s going to be used against me at every opportunity you get, isn’t it?

He grinned evilly when she glanced at him.

‘Oh, yes.’ He snickered.

‘Tom, your Loki is showing.’ She commented in a deadpan tone. 

Laughing, he pulled her to him again.

‘Sorry, darling. He’s quite hard to ignore sometimes.’ 

’S’okay.’ She yawned. Thankfully they were almost home. She couldn’t wait to crash into her bed and sleep for twelve hours. ‘I’ll get used to it. Eventually.’

Tom chuckled at that, and proceeded to lead her down the path, past Green Park Underground Station and through the Park. 

Yes, bed and sleep sounded really great right now. She burrowed into his one armed embrace and felt peaceful and happy as they strolled the last few yards to her uncle’s house.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Harry. And witness family shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money with this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox. 
> 
> This Sandbox is soooo much fun! :D

**Chapter 10**

 

Friday, 24 march 2017

 

Almost exactly one day later, Tom found himself once again entering Clarence House. He’d left the chauffeured town car, which he’d hired, at the guarded car entrance in the yard behind the house. The guards had let him through after checking his ID, but the car and driver weren’t allowed. The driver had told him that it was not a problem and that he’d just wait for Tom and his date at the other side of the high fences. The man had kept a straight face, but tom had seen the curiosity in his eyes about whom they were picking up at a Royal Residence.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the kitchen door and waited. It wasn’t long before the door was opened. By Prince Charles… Or, uncle Charlie. Tom still hadn’t processed the surreality of it all. 

Prince Charles smiled politely at him and gestured for him to come in.

‘Ah, mr Hiddleston. We’ve been expecting you, please come in.’

Tom bowed his head to the man, remembering the Royal etiquette training from his Eton days.

‘Thank you, Your Royal Highness.’ He said.

The other man waved away Tom’s correct use of protocol.

‘We’ll be having none of that tonight, mr Hiddleston. You are going on a date with my niece. You may call me Charles.’ He proffered his hand for Tom to shake.

Tom took his hand and smiled.

‘Then you may call me Tom, sir.’

Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded through the house, followed by several thuds. Charles rolled his eyes and shot Tom an apologetic grimace.

‘Harry Wales! You utter twat! I’m gonna kill you dead! And then I’m gonna murder you twice! I’ll have you hung, drawn, and quartered!’ That sounded like Liv. Like a very wrathful Liv… Tom raised his eyebrows in amused surprise. It didn’t sound good for the man. 

Then a loud male laugh was heard, followed by heavy footsteps on the first floor. 

‘I am sorry about that. Harry came to visit this afternoon, and he’s one for playing practical jokes on people. This time, Olivia seems to have been on the receiving end.’ Charles apologised. He winced when there was another heavy thud and then a male shout from pain, followed by a very sadistic and evil female cackle. ‘It sounds like she’s trying to make good on her claims. She’s a bloodthirsty one, our little Queen Victoria.’ Then he winked at Tom, who was staring at the ceiling with a grin on his face, highly amused by what he’d just heard. The more he was learning about Liv, the more he was pulled in by her personality.

Yesterday, when they’d met on Primrose Hill, he’d seen that spark of humour and feistiness burn inside her. Combined with her studiousness, her intelligence and her passion for her work, it became an almost irresistible mix of traits, which he had no defence against. Which he didn’t want to have any defences against, if he was honest with himself.

‘Shall we see what that is all about? I have a feeling that I’ll be needing you to distract her, so I can save my darling son from her retaliation.’ Charles gestured for Tom to ascend the stairs to the raised ground floor and followed closely behind.

It struck Tom how different the two times he’d ascended these stairs, were. Yesterday he’d been very uncomfortable and stressed out, an now he was doing his best not to laugh at hearing the war that was being waged above his head. It sounded like Harry was losing, big time. He wouldn’t have sought it behind the petite woman to be able to best her tall cousin, who had been trained in the military, but it was sounding, more and more, like that was exactly what had happened.

The fact that the Queen’s household and family seemed to be exactly like every other household, with family dinners, and drama, and fights, and pranks, and tough love, went a long way to making him feel more at home than he had thought possible after only two visits. 

In the hallway at the top of the stairs, Charles overtook him and climbed the stairs to the first floor, following the grunts of his youngest son, and his sudden outcry.

‘Okay! I yield! _I yield!_ ’ 

Tom followed, keeping his pace a bit slower, unsure if it was okay to follow the Prince of Wales to the floor where the sleeping quarters of the family were located. He felt a bit like an interloper.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was just in time to see Liv sitting on top of her cousin, who was laying on his stomach. She was straddling his lower back and had his arm bent behind his upper back, keeping him under control by putting pressure on his thumb, with one hand. In the other hand, she had one of the boots she’d been wearing the night before. As he watched, she tipped the boot over, and a slimy yellowish and transparent substance slithered out of the calf opening, dripping down onto the red headed man’s neck and into his ear. He let out a high squeak at feeling the goo enter his ear, a shiver wracking him.

‘You cruel witch! I told you, I yield!’ Harry groaned, a disgusted expression on his face.

‘You put cold, raw, eggs in my boots! You must pay!’ Liv smiled dangerously and let more of the raw egg drip from the boot, into his hair and beard.

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please stop! It was Kate’s idea! She asked me to make sure you wouldn’t wear the boots on your date tonight. They don't go with the dress! That's what she said, I swear!’ Then he looked up at his father, pleadingly. ‘Dad, help.’ He croaked. 

Tom looked from father to son, and back, wondering what the man would do.

Charles stood to the side, hands on his hips. He had an amused smile on his face and shook his head.

‘Son, it looks like you got yourself into quite a mess, but I’m sure you are capable of getting yourself out of it, too.’

Harry frowned darkly.

‘Traitor!’ He growled, trying to push himself up with one hand, while Liv was still on his back. It was no use. She had him where she wanted him and wasn’t going to let up.

Charles held up his hands in apology.

‘You have desecrated her holier than holy Doc Martens. You should have known better than to pull a prank like that. I’m not getting in the middle of this. You’re on your own.’ He took a step back and made to go back downstairs, winking at Tom. ‘They’re all yours, Tom.’ 

Tom let out an amused laugh as he took in the two thirty-something people on the carpet.

Liv’s head shot up from where she was evilly cackling at her cousin, when it became clear that his father wasn't going to rescue him from her clutches.

‘Oh. _Tom_. You’re already here.’ Her eyes were wide with surprise and a blush appeared on her cheeks. She threw the boot she was holding to the side and her muscled legs -her very _naked,_ muscled legs, Tom now noticed-, pushed her up and off her cousins back, while she let go of his thumb in the same movement. Quickly, she pulled down the short skirt of the black suede cocktail dress she had on, but not before he caught a glimpse of the pair of cute, lacy boy shorts she was wearing, underneath. Tom’s eyes were glued to her appearance; he just couldn’t find it in him to look away. Remembering how, the day before, she’d told him that there would be an almost obscene spillage, if she was ever going to dress up in a skimpy fairy costume, he could do nothing else than agree with her assessment, and not mind it one bit. 

The black dress she was wearing, had broad shoulder straps, the same width as her shoulders, but plunged deeply in the front, having a narrow v-neck split, showing off the cleavage of her very generous breasts. The dress was quite tight and hugged her narrow waist and flaring hips in all the right places, giving her a delectable hourglass figure. Its skirt was short and ended at least three inches above her knees. Her legs weren’t thin, but they were shapely and showed quite some muscle definition. Probably from all the hiking she liked to do.

Liv held up a finger, throwing him an apologetic smile.

‘Just one moment. I’m almost ready, just have to find some other shoes and grab my coat and clutch.’ She shot her cousin one last pissed off look and huffed at his snicker.

Tom nodded, tongue-tied from seeing her dressed so differently than he had the day, and night, before.

Then she turned around and he couldn’t suppress a groan. Where the front of the dress covered everything quite demurely -if one could oversee the plunging v-neck-, the back of the dress was held together at the top, by three small buttons behind her neck, and the rest of it was cut out in a wide diamond shape, starting just below her shoulders and ending just above the swell of her generous arse, leaving nothing to the imagination. There was no doubt in his mind that she wasn’t wearing anything else under that dress, but those skimpy boy shorts.

‘ _Jesus Christ._ ’ He mumbled under his breath, feeling his body respond to the vision in front of him. Then she was gone and he sucked in a breath to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do to sport wood while he was in the house of the Prince of Wales. Talk about awkward.

A shadow fell over him and he heard a snicker come from his right.

‘That’s one way to put it. She’s a spitfire that one, don’t let her fool you with that quiet, studious facade.’ Harry chuckled, and stuck out his hand to Tom. ‘Hello, I’m Harry. I think we met at Eton a few times.’ The man grinned at him while raw egg dripped from his beard, onto the front of his dark blue, knitted sweater.

Tom shook his hand and smiled back.

‘Tom.’ He said. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Your Royal Highness.’

Harry snorted at his following of protocol.

‘Good man, you’re dating my cousin, who is like a sister to me. Please call me Harry. Family dinners will be much less awkward like that.’

Nodding, Tom smiled.

‘Alright. But we are only at date one point five. I’m sure those family dinners are still far away.’

The other man laughed quietly. 

‘One point five, hm? Well, that makes you zero point five dates ahead of any other man she’s dated in the past decade. I’d say that makes it very likely that we’ll be seeing more of you in the coming months. Our Liv is very picky about who she lets into her life, and especially about who she lets into our lives. The fact that you’re here right now, in my father’s house, is a unique situation. She’s never even brought her husband, now ex-husband, here. And I’ve heard something about you two planning to go on a road trip to Scotland?’ He looked at Tom speculatively and then grinned mischievously. ‘You do know that she has four big brothers, right?’

Tom let out a chuckle.

‘Yes, I know about the brothers. Apparently they are all very big and scary.’

Harry nodded, his eyes wide.

‘Oh, yes, they are.’ He said in a solemn voice; but his eyes twinkled with amusement as he clapped Tom on the back. ‘Good luck with that. I’d give you the shovel talk, but I’ll spare you the awkwardness of that. Just know, that, if you hurt their little sister, they’ll come for you.’ He grinned a shark-ish smile. ‘And so will my brother and I.’ 

Tom swallowed and nodded, impressed with how quickly the other man could go from being a jovial joker, to being so dangerously intimidating.

‘Duly noted.’ He met Harry’s eyes head on, holding his gaze to show the man that he was as serious as he was.

‘Oh. my. god. Harry! Stop trying to chase away my date and go wash that goo out of your hair, before you start dripping on the carpets.’ Liv’s irritated voice broke through their stare off. ‘It’s sweet that you’re trying to defend my honour, no matter how outdated it is, you troglodyte, but that boat has sailed a very long time ago. And I can take care of myself, by the way; just letting you know, in case my beating your arse, earlier, wasn’t enough to get that into your thick skull.’ 

She had put on black ankle booties with a wedge heel, and was carrying the same black leather jacket that she had worn the night before, over her left arm, while the fingers of her left hand were curled around a black leather clutch.

‘Oh, and I expect my Docs clean, and dry, at my door, first thing tomorrow morning.’ She narrowed her eyes at her cousin. ‘You better clean them, or I’ll tell Megan what you’ve done. You’ll be in the doghouse for a month.’

Tom saw Harry’s face fall at that remark. 

‘Alright, alright. They’ll be as good as new by tomorrow.’ Her cousin grumbled, as he walked toward one of the doors. Before going into the bedroom, he turned toward Tom. ‘Not too late to run, mate.’ He flashed a grin before disappearing behind the door.

Liv groaned and rolled her eyes.

‘Younger cousins can be _so_ annoying.’ It sounded heartfelt, but Tom could hear the humour under the prickly tone. He hummed in agreement, thinking of how annoying he’d found his younger sister when they had been growing up.

Tom gestured for her to walk in front of him down the stairs, not complaining when that allowed him an unobstructed view of her lovely curves.

‘So, where are we going for dinner?’ She asked over her shoulder; her long, wavy hair falling over her back, the tips of the strands only just reaching the naked skin of her shoulder blades.

‘Well, I hope you like Indian food?’ He was proud of how normal his voice sounded, when all he wanted to do was turn her around and kiss her senseless. He swallowed thickly and tried to get his base instincts under control. He was better than this; he refused to let his urges dictate his actions.

Last night, he’d given her a chaste good night kiss by the kitchen door, not pushing it any further, remembering the promise he’d made himself to take things slow this time. There was no rush. He’d be home for the coming months and they’d have more than enough time to get to know each other. It was too bad his body _had_ gotten that memo, but had then proceeded to tear it into tiny little pieces, after which it had thrown it into the burning inferno of heat that raged inside him when he was with Liv. 

He almost missed her answer to his question, while he mused about stupid teenage hormones that didn’t belong inside the body of a thirty-six year old male.

‘Oh, I love Indian food. The flavours are always so intense.’ She smiled at him over her shoulder and happily hopped down the last few steps of the stairs. 

He followed her as she said goodbye to her uncle and aunt, kissing them both on their cheeks. Tom quickly sent a wave and a goodbye to the Prince of Wales and his wife, before following Liv down to the kitchen and out of the door.

Outside, he helped her into her jacket, and when she turned to him, he kissed her softly, keeping his libido under an iron control.

‘You look lovely.’ He whispered against her lips. He could feel her smile and more felt than heard her quiet ‘thanks.’

Then she took his hand and smiled up at him.

‘Come on, lets go.’ She said and pulled him to the gate, where the town car, and its driver, were waiting patiently for them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short 'n Sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> This is my Sandbox.
> 
>  
> 
> Phew. Long time no see, peeps! 
> 
> That's what you get when you contract three types of flu within ten weeks; one 'normal' flu, one stomach flu, and one helluva nasty throat infection that had me out for the count for THREE flippin' weeks. Damnit... And on top of that, we had to get our house ready for sale. Oomph...  
> I'm fighting my way back, but my time behind the keyboard is limited, with house sale, work, and kids, on my plate; so, updates will be patchy and spread out a bit more. Sorry about that. :'(

**Chapter 11**

 

Their dinner had been splendid and Liv had thoroughly enjoyed the plethora of different exotic flavours and textures. She’d have to remember the restaurant, because she was definitely going back there in the future. Maybe she could take her da and her brothers some time. They’d love the ambiance, and the food. 

She, herself, had squeed -yup, squeed; to her own embarrassment and to Tom's amusement. There was no other word to describe the high pitched sound that had left her mouth when they'd entered the building- in excitement when the restaurant turned out to be located in an old library in a historic building in the heart of Westminster. The owners had kept the library theme throughout their restaurant and there were floor to ceiling bookcases at two walls, and they were filled with books. The modern restaurant was seamlessly fused with the old world dark wooden panelling and bookcases and Liv had very much enjoyed admiring the setting during their six course tasting menu, which had been followed by a cup of coffee and several petit fours in the Library Bar. It had been an experience to remember. Everything had been executed with such attention to detail; from the food, to the service, to the ambiance. Not to mention the fantastic wines that were served with each course. Wines which had left her slightly tipsy and giggly.

The whole evening, filled with lovely food -and wine; shouldn’t forget the wine-, and talk and laughter with the man who had turned her world upside down in the past day, had her feeling very relaxed while they made their way outside. They were being accompanied by the owner of the restaurant, who bade them a very warm goodbye while Tom held open the car door for her. She smiled and nodded at the man, shook his hand and complimented him on his beautiful restaurant and the fantastic food, assuring him that she would definitely be back. He beamed at her proudly as he thanked her, and then shook Tom’s hand as Liv sank down into the luscious leather seats of the town-car, and then scooting over, so Tom wouldn’t have to enter the car from the other side and walk into traffic to do it. Central London traffic was always very busy, even -or, maybe, especially- on a Friday night. Lots of party-goers and tourists flooding the city after dark, going to pubs, and bars, and clubs, and, of course, to and from the theatres.

It was nearing eleven and she was looking forward to a night of dancing now that she’d had her fill of food and alcohol. Okay, maybe not of alcohol. She snickered to herself at that random thought, feeling the slight buzz of the imbibed wines. With a contented sigh, she leaned back into the cushions of her seat. This really was a perfect end to a reasonably positive day.

Earlier in the day, Liv had been summoned to her Nan’s office and she’d been informed about the PR strategy which the Queen and Luke had set up. It boiled down to that Tom and she would be free to date ‘anonymously’ until about halfway through July. Luke would judge when the time was right to release her name and profession -the archaeologist one, not the Princess one-, and Tom’s changed relationship status, to the press in the coming weeks -or months-. Depending on their mutual compatibility, of course. If they called it quits after a few dates, he wouldn’t interfere and let the press stories run their course until they would, eventually, die down.

Her Nan would announce Liv’s official addition to the Royal Family line around the fifteenth of July, just before Parliament’s Summer Recess, and Liv would be scheduled in for several Royal public appearances over the summer. The first few to accompany Katie and Will, and then she’d take over on her own.

If she and Tom were still together by July, which was when Liv would be ‘thrown to the sharks’ as she, herself, liked to call it, then an official press release would be sent out from the Palace, at the same time as the Royal Princess announcement, confirming her and Tom's ‘official’ relationship.

At dinner, Tom had confirmed that he’d gotten a similar kind of briefing from Luke and he had given her the impression that he hadn’t been very happy with Luke’s behaviour from the previous evening, and he admitted that he’d spoken about it to the man, but also indicated that he did see the benefits of the plan the Queen and Luke had cooked up. 

Liv was just happy that she’d have a little more time to live in relative quiet than she’d initially thought. She’d been afraid that her ‘freedom’ would be gone by the beginning of June after she’d heard about her Nan’s plans, but she’d gotten a whole six weeks more than she’d hoped for. Which had put her in an excellent mood for the night -right up until Harry’s attack on her Docs that was, but she’d already forgotten about that… Mostly... Which reminded her, she had to text Megan about that in the morning. Oh, how revenge would be sweet... Especially if she could get Megan involved in her plans-. She chuckled, thinking on how to get back at her cousin and how to convince his girlfriend to join her in her little venture.

Then she bent toward the open door and she waved her hand in Tom’s direction to get his attention. He noticed her just as he was about to close the door, through which she’d entered the car, and he bent over to peer at her with a questioning smile. Gesturing for him to sit down in the seat she’d scooted over, she smiled at him. He sent her a warm grin and slid onto the seat, folding his long legs into the space behind the passenger seat -which had already been pushed almost all the way forward, but what could you do, the man was blessed with a pair of lengthy legs-.

‘Thanks, darling.’ He took her hand in his and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, his blue eyes looking up at her through his lashes, while the corners of his mouth tilted up. His thumb rubbed slow circles on her skin, leaving a small zing, almost an electrical current, in its wake.

‘No problem.’ She beamed at him, a light blush creeping up her cheeks as she suppressed a shiver. Sheesh, the man was absolutely magnetic. She had no idea how she was going to survive the night without embarrassing herself in public by snogging him senseless and climbing him like a tree. A soft sigh escaped her as she shyly averted her eyes and looked out the window at the buildings they were passing.

It took them less than fifteen minutes to arrive at the club. The whole drive over they stayed quiet, holding hands and relaxing into the seats. To Liv it felt like a comfortable silence and she suspected that Tom felt the same, as there seemed to have come a sort of tranquility over him that she hadn’t seen in him before. For as far as she had experienced, he was always brimming with an almost uncontainable energy, but now he looked happy to just be there, in the moment, with her. It warmed her heart to see that. When he looked at her questioningly, probably because she’d been staring at him for a while - _oops_ -, she sent him a happy smile, which he answered with one of his own.

‘What?’ He asked with a humorous note in his voice, the smile still on his lips.

Liv shrugged and shook her head as she chuckled.

‘Just a thought that went through my head... Life is so weird.’ 

‘Heh, yes, it certainly is.’ Tom agreed, leaning in to give her a quick, but sweet, kiss. He squeezed her hand gently before looking out the window when the car started to slow down.

‘We’re here, mr Hiddleston.’ The driver said.

Liv looked out the window on Tom’s side of the car and gasped in shock; there was a huge crowd gathered in front of the entrance doors when the car pulled up to the pavement in front of the club. Its popularity causing a steady influx of people to queue along the sidewalk. 

Liv looked to Tom, a sceptical expression on her face.

‘Um, are you sure this is a good idea? There’s an awful lot of people out there, and you’re not exactly, what I would call, blending into the background… Mister Tall Suit Guy who happens to be famous.’ She wrinkled her nose and gestured at his form, indicating his casual chic attire and his height in one sweep of her hand.

Tom let out a spontaneous laugh at her expression, but sobered when he saw her raised eyebrow as she wonderingly observed him.

‘Sorry, Liv, I wasn’t laughing at you.’ He assured her. ‘It’s just… I don’t know… The way you treat me like I’m just a normal guy… Which I am, of course, but it has been a long time since a date has put me with both my feet so firmly on the ground, with a gesture and a few words, like you just did. It’s like a breath of fresh air.’ He smiled at her and Liv chuckled at his admission.

‘Well, if you need someone to firmly plant your feet in some soil, then I’m your girl. It’s my job, you know, digging around in dirt. Literally. And I have lots of experience keeping my brothers grounded throughout my life.’ She grinned. ‘Also, if you ever need to hide a body… I know stuff… Like, how to use a shovel.’ Winking, she stuck her tongue out between her teeth and raised her eyebrows; her expression naughtily diabolical.

Tom laughed again and sent her a grin of his own.

'I'll keep that in mind.' He chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Then he leant forward, addressing the driver.

‘Sir, can you drive up to that door, there, please?’ He pointed at an inconspicuous door in the fencing that surrounded the nightclub. As the driver drove up to the door, Tom sat back, fished his phone from his trouser pocket and typed and sent a quick text. 

He put his phone away again and smiled a conspiring smile at Liv.

‘Don’t worry about the crowd, darling, I have a contingency plan in place.’

Within seconds of him saying that, Liv saw the door in the fence slide open. A tall, chicly dressed brunette stepped out onto the pavement and walked up to the car, flanked by two broadly built security guards. The woman respectfully waited a few feet from the car, until Liv and Tom deemed it a good moment to exit. The guards stood off to the side, placing themselves between the car and the people who were waiting in line. 

At Liv’s surprised expression, Tom thought it necessary to explain.

‘I’ve booked a table for tonight. In the VIP section. That way we will have some privacy and we won’t be swamped by any of my fans. I thought that a better idea than just throw ourselves to the sharks, so to speak. What do you think?’ He looked at her expectantly.

Liv leant in this time, and pecked him lightly on the lips, leaving him smiling.

‘Alright. No shark tank diving tonight, then. I think I’ll be able to handle the disappointment. Lead the way, mr Hiddleston.' 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Ministry of Sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it’s been a while, but here you go... A 3000 word update... Or more... Hell if I know... *shrugs* 
> 
> You’re welcome! :)
> 
> Still don’t own anything but my OCs, and the storyline you don’t recognise.
> 
> This is my TWH Sandbox... 
> 
> Well, one of them, anyway... ;)

Chapter 12

 

The moment Tom stepped out of the car, a shock of recognition went through the crowd that was waiting to be allowed entrance into the club. As Liv scooted over to the open car door, she could hear people start to yell his name to get his attention.

Looking up at him from where she was still safely hidden inside the car, she could see how Tom startled from the sudden volatile reaction to his arrival. She didn’t think he’d expected such a reception. Yesterday, the response from the people in the pub, and in the street, had been much more subdued and had consisted of sneaking pictures and double takes. Now, the bodyguards who had flanked the hostess made their way to the regular entrance of the club and started to exercise some crowd control measures to keep the most enthusiastic people from leaving the queue.

Tom quickly schooled his expression, going from shock to neutral politeness within a second, and plastered a smile on his face -one that didn’t really reach his eyes- as he waved politely at the crowd. Then he turned to her, bending over slightly, and holding out his hand for her to take; sending her a shy, apologetic smile. A genuine one. Telling her that he was feeling slightly uncomfortable with the situation they found themselves in on this ‘first’ date, and she couldn’t help but smile back reassuringly. It wasn’t his fault.

Then she realised that it was her turn to exit the car. Swallowing, she closed her eyes to gather her courage. Okay, she could do this. _Right?_ Nerves exploded in her tummy. All the media training in the world couldn’t have prepared her for the screaming and yelling coming from outside, or for the invasive strobe light effect of camera and phone flashes. Expelling a shuddering breath, and fighting the instinct to retreat further into the car, she opened her eyes and took hold of Tom’s long-fingered right hand with her left, revelling in how gently he curled his fingers around hers. She looked at their clasped hands for a few seconds to get her bearings.

With her other hand, she tightly gripped onto her clutch and held it in front of her cleavage to prevent anyone from snapping an inappropriate picture while she bent over to exit the car; then she turned in her seat and gracefully unfolded her legs from the car, putting her feet steadily on the ground, taking care to keep her knees together, just as she had been taught by the endless stream of etiquette teachers her Nan had employed to educate her during her teenage years. Who would have thought she’d one day -today- be grateful for the, what she’d seen as wasted, and boring, afternoons of learning how to exit a car without flashing her knickers, among many, many other things.

When she looked up at Tom, and met his gaze, she could see the tenseness around his eyes as he sent her an encouraging nod. It was now very clear for her to see that he had not expected the club to be this busy outside. It made her realise that she did not have the luxury to be the shrinking violet her introverted self wanted her to be, while facing the crowd outside; no matter how much she was quaking in her ankle booties. Whether or not he realised it himself, she somehow knew that in that moment Tom needed her to be the woman her Nan had raised her to be.

 _Alright, Olivia. Looks like tonight is going to be a practice round for when the shit hits the fan in July. Time to put that training of yours to work. You are a daughter of Kings and Queens, of Lairds and Ladies. Show it to the world._ She told herself. The mental peptalk helped. A little.

With Tom’s help, she rose from the car, standing up straight almost immediately and pulling back her shoulders. _Chin up_. She heard the voice of her Nan in the back of her head. _Always stand with one foot slightly in front of the other. And smile politely. Posture and Poise, Olivia, Posture and Poise._

Standing slightly in front of Tom, she let go of his hand and felt how he placed it on her right hip -the warmth of his palm burning through the material of her dress, causing a light tremor to travel through her body. _Stay calm. Stay calm. Staycalmstaycalm_ -, and steered her so that they were facing the crowd. All those flashes of light she’d seen from the car now almost blinded her. _Where did those paparazzi photographers suddenly come from?_

Wondering if they hung out at the outside of the club to see if any celebrities would turn up at weekends, Liv tried to keep her breathing under control, while her heart was galloping in her chest. On top of the yells and screams of the people queueing behind the club’s partition barriers, the paps had started to shout questions at Tom, too. Some of them were not so gracious with their word use, trying to get a reaction out of her date. Out of her.

Holding her clutch in front of her lower abdomen, and clasping it with both hands as if her life depended on it, she never closed her eyes, never dropped her smile, nor relaxed her ramrod straight spine; her tense back muscles effectively keeping her shoulders from slumping. She outright refused to react to the paps’ challenges.

Being able to fall back on the etiquette lessons that had been drilled into her from a young age, suddenly made them into a safety-net, instead of being the bane of her existence that they had been, back when she’d been a teenager. Strange, how a few extra years of life-experience, and being thrust into extraordinairy circumstances, could change one’s perspective on what once had been perceived as restrictive and outdated bullshite. Which it was, of course, she hadn’t changed her mind about that, but, being confronted with a stressful situation as she was now, it aided her in keeping a level head. And it gave her enough confidence to not crumble under the sudden pressure of unexpectedly being thrown into the crosshairs of the media, and, as a result, being brought under the scrutiny of Tom’s fans, a lot sooner and with much more exposure than she’d initially expected.

‘Are you alright?’ Came Tom’s quiet voice from behind her left ear. Startled from her musings, she turned her head to face him. He had inclined his head toward her, and looked at her inquisitively, his blue eyes conveying his own uneasiness with the situation.

Liv nodded, giving him a wry smile.

‘Yes, but I wouldn’t be opposed to us moving on right about now.’ She responded. ‘I feel a bit dizzy from all the flashing lights.’ Blinking to dispell the black spots that danced in front of her eyes, she focused on Tom. His expression had turned to one of worry.

‘If you’re not feeling well, I could take you home?’ Raising his eyebrows in query, Tom tightened his arm around her as if he was afraid that she’d keel over any minute.

She hurried to reassure him.

‘Oh, no, that’s _not_ what I meant!’ Smiling up at him, she continued, ‘You promised me a night of dancing, did you not? There’s no way you’re getting out of that... It’s just the strobe light like flashes which make me feel slightly unsteady.’

Nodding in understanding, Tom gently squeezed her hip.

‘Alright, let’s get you inside, then.’ A joyous smile appeared on his face as he proceeded to steer her to where the club’s hostess was waiting patiently for them. It felt like it had been more than an hour, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute, or maybe two, that they’d been standing outside the car, being photographed and yelled at. As Liv let out a sigh of relief at finally being able to turn away from the restless crowd, Tom gave a last wave, and then took the hostess’ proffered hand, exchanging pleasantries and asking her about the busy night. It turned out that a world famous DJ would be performing within the next hour. The paparazzi had been buzzing outside the club because they were expecting a couple of high profile VIP clients for the concert. So, it had been a coincidence that they’d gotten Tom and his date in front of their cameras. Liv was sure that they didn’t mind some juicy photographs of the actor, though. Especially not now that he was on what looked like a date with a ‘mystery brunette’.

After having greeted Tom, the hostess moved on to introduce herself to Liv.

‘Hello, miss Wyndham, my name is Amanda. I am your VIP Hostess for the night. If you need anything during your stay with us, please, do not hesitate to ask.’ Her demeanor was so friendly and warm, that Liv took an immediate liking to the woman.

She greeted her politely and sent her a grateful smile when Amanda mentioned that the paparazzi wasn’t allowed inside the club, so they wouldn’t have to worry about being accosted in the VIP section. Then the woman strode ahead of them, opening the door to the VIP corridor of the club, allowing them to walk through in front of her.

One of the corridor’s walls was made from glass, and through it, Liv could see that the queue of people extended into the halway of the club. Curious eyes followed the two of them, people elbowing their friends to alert them to Tom’s presence, as Amanda guided her and Tom through the fast track entrance and to the VIP cloakroom.

Handing her leather jacket to the hostess, Liv observed how Tom was rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt to just above his elbows after he had handed his suit-jacket and tie to the woman behind the cloakroom counter. Unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, he sent her a dazzling smile.

‘Ready for your night of dancing and shenanigans, Darling?’ When he held out his hand to her, she took it, answering his smile with one of her own.

‘Absolutely.’ Her confident response elicited a happy hum from him. The tenseness she’d sensed in him while outside had all but dissipated. It was clear that he was very much looking forward to the night of clubbing and letting loose.

Amanda gestured for them to follow her through a door that was marked ‘staff only’. As she guided them through a narrow corridor, she explained the reason for not taking them to the VIP Lounge via the normal path.

‘Usually we escort our VIP guests through the lobby, which is the only part of the club where the VIPs and regular guests might cross paths, unless the VIP guest chooses to leave the VIP Lounge and go down to one of the dancefloors, of course, but tonight it’s so busy that it wouldn’t be responsible. We have this corridor to circumnavigate the lobby if a situation like this occurs. When you want to leave tonight, just let me know, and I’ll escort you back through to the exit.’ Before opening the door at the end of the hallway, she turned to Tom, looking apologetic. ‘I’m sorry to say that our management urgently requests you not to leave the VIP sections of the club tonight. It is too busy, and we will not be able to guarantee your safety, or the safety of the people on the dancefloor, if you do so. You will, of course, be able to enjoy the music, and dance on the balconies that can be accessed from the Lounge.’

Liv saw a shadow of disappointment flash over Tom’s face, followed by resignation as he nodded at Amanda.

‘That’s fine.’ He said. Turning to Liv, he raised his eyebrows. ‘We’ll have a good time, regardless. Won’t we?’

Liv smiled brightly.

‘Definitely.’ She agreed. ‘As long as there’s some wiggle-room on the balcony Amanda mentioned, we’ll be fine.’ Winking at Tom, she gestured for Amanda to continue through the door. Which the woman did. Liv made to follow her into the VIP Lounge.

Stepping up behind her after she’d passed him, Tom pressed his front against her back, halting her with a hand on her abdomen.

‘Wiggle-room, hm?’ He murmured next to her ear, just loud enough that he would be heard over the beat of the music that played beyond the doorway, and quiet enough so only she could hear him. A shiver traveled down her spine at hearing the roughness in his usually smooth voice. Liv licked her lower lip nervously. Jesus, the man could wield his voice as a weapon if he was so inclined. Conquer the whole world without firing a shot.

Deciding to have some fun, she pressed back against him and gave a wiggle of her round bum against his groin.

‘Oh, _very_ much so.’ With a small, naughtly laugh, she spun out of his hold and followed Amanda onto the Lounge floor; the low groan reaching her ears as Tom was forced to let her go doing tingly things to her insides.

Amanda showed them their booth, which consisted of a cosy loveseat and a low table, on which a bottle of Vodka, two long drink glasses, two decanters with two different juices, and a bottle of champagne in a cooler, accompanied by two champagne glasses, were placed, courtesy of a smiling waiter.

Their hostess told them once again not to hesitate to ask if they needed something, and wished them a lovely evening. Liv thanked her with a smile, and slid into the loveseat like booth, which was surrounded by wood panelling, ensuring them of enough privacy. Tom shook Amanda’s hand as he thanked her for her attentiveness, and then she was off. Probably to accompany other VIPs from the entrace of the club to the Lounge.

Within seconds Tom caught up with Liv, an arm sliding around her back, and his hand landing on her hip, giving her a cheeky squeeze as he slid into the booth, sitting down next to her.

‘ _Teasing little witch._ ’ He whispered in her ear.

All Liv could do was laugh elatedly in response. She really liked the heated playfulness that was unfolding between them. 

‘I thought I was more like a water sprite?’ Throwing him a grin, she challenged him with the thing he’d said to her when they’d first met. Had that only been yesterday?

‘I’ve changed my mind. A water sprite you are _not_. You should have been named Hecate.’ His mouth pulled up in a triumphant smirk as he accused her of being the Greek goddess of witchcraft.

‘Hm, I’d like to think myself to be more of a Peitho...’ Tilting her head, she observed him when he quickly hid a look of delight behind a thoughtful frown as he shook his head in disagreement with her claim that she was rather more like the personification of persuasion and seduction.

‘No, that’s not right. You’re not a lower deity. If you’re not to be Hecate, then you are Selene.’

Liv snickered, feeling a bit flattered by his conclusion that she was none other than the goddess of the moon, a daughter of Titans, closely associated with Hecate, and... _Oh, dear gods_ , he’d provided her with so much fodder for retaliation. She didn’t hesitate in taking him down; schooling her face in one of polite indifference.

‘And would that make you _Pan_? Hm?’ Raising an eyebrow, she let her gaze slowly, and meaningfully, travel down to where his belt buckle met the zipper of his trousers. ‘I wonder what’s underneath that sheep skin you’re wearing, then...’ Small tremors went through her as she fought to keep her giggles inside and present a cool front.

Her sassy and naughty reference to the story of how the god Pan had seduced the moon goddess Selene, and to Pan’s well documented _attributes_ , had Tom stumped for a few seconds; his face going slack when he realised the extent of his oversight. He stared down at her in flabbergasted admiration, whispering a heartfelt ‘ _Fuck_.’

He seemed to quickly recover from his stupor, though; because, within the blink of an eye, his expression changed, and he flashed her a white teethed grin that Liv could only describe as fiercely predatory. She noticed how his features sharpened as his mind caught up to her quip and provided him with an answer. _Oh, shit..._ Her mind went blank at seeing the heat in his eyes. He pulled her tightly into the side of his body, the voice next to her ear almost growling its reply.

‘Loki... Pan... _Both_ are tricksters. I have no qualm with being Pan. As Selene was Pan’s _greatest_ conquest, I hope that it means that you will be mine.’

Slowly, while talking, he leaned toward her, and by the time he whispered ‘ _mine_ ’, his lips were forming the words against the sensitive shell of her ear; his whiskers rasping lightly against her skin, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms, and eliciting an explosion of butterflies in her tummy. The heat that spread in her lower abdomen pulsed in time with the beat of the music that surrounded them.  _Fuuuuuuuuuck..._

Swallowing thickly, Liv turned her body to face him. This time it was she who was lost for words.

Tom’s eyes were filled with warmth and trust -and longing- when he met her gaze.

‘And I’ll pray to any and every deity who will listen, that you will not slip away from me in the early morning light, and leave me forever, as Selene did with Pan.’

A flood of emotion suddenly filled her at hearing his words, and without giving herself any time to think, she grasped his crisp, white shirt in her hand, pullling his face towards hers.

‘ _Not a fucking chance in hell_.’ The whispered promise escaped her lips just before she pressed them passionately to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and Kudos are always appreciated. They feed the muse.
> 
> Until next time my lovelies!
> 
> Cheers!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom’s POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING, I’m adding a few new tags to the story tags, and I’m upping the story to Explicit.
> 
> Triggers for this chapter:  
> Mentions of alcohol abuse (flashback)  
> Mentions of threat of physical abuse (flashback)  
> Mentions of mental breakdown/panic attacks/self-destructive behaviour (flashback)  
> Mentions of hurtful words (flashback)
> 
> Chapter becomes a bit dark, but ends on a happier note.

Chapter 13

 

‘And I’ll pray to any and every deity who will listen, that you will not slip away from me in the early morning light, and leave me forever, as Selene did with Pan.’

He hadn’t meant for the sincere plea to escape his lips the way it did. Somehow, the longing in his heart had circumnavigated his usually sharp mind, and he’d just thrown it out into the open. Without restraint.

It sounded so... overly dramatic; and slightly desperate. Even to his own ears. And on a first date to boot... _Shite_.

Silently beating himself up over his emotionally charged slip up, he concluded that he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d scared Liv off with his clumsy, and too intense, rendition of his budding feelings for her. He wouldn’t blame her. Hell, the person he’d been last week would’ve run the other way if he’d met a woman who came on to _him_ that strong after only one date.

Give him a script and point a camera at him, and he’d deliver the most suave gentleman-in-love the romantics of the world had previously only dreamed of, without any difficulty. Interviews, work dinners, movie premieres, wooing his previous romantic interests, also _not_ a problem.

Flirting with _Liv_ on the other hand... _Immediate **Catastrophy**._

The whole thing had started out so well, and then he just had to fuck it up with that last, incredibly sappy sentence. They had known each other for a day. Only _one_ **day** , for fuck’s sake! That was not a timeframe in which one dramatically professed one’s undying... _whatever_... for the other party involved. Tom suppressed a grimace as he started to turn away from her, resigned in his utter failure to bring this first date to a normal, non-dramatic conclusion. _Pathetic fucker._

Suddenly, he was halted in his movement by a delicate hand not so delicately grasping onto the front of his shirt, and pulling his upper body toward the woman who had singlehandedly succeeded in turning his life upside down, and his heart inside out.

‘ _Not a fucking chance in hell._ ’ The fierce, whispered answer to his dramatic plea reached his ears only a moment before a pair of full lips ardently pressed themselves against his own. Instead of the rejection he’d been fearing, he unexpectedly had his arms full of warm, soft, passionate woman. It took his brain a second to catch up to his body, but then he wrapped his arms around her, burying his right hand in her hair, and using the left to pull her closer to him.

Relief and arousal flooded his body in equal measure as Liv manoeuvred herself to sit sideways on his lap while snogging him senseless with a carnally sinful, open-mouthed kiss, which he eagerly returned; her lush curves inadvertently pushed up against a _very_ enthusiastic part of his anatomy when he tried to adjust his sitting position so he would have better access to her mouth. A quiet moan escaped her, and she gently rocked her soft hip against his cloth covered cock as her hands slid up from his chest and over his shoulders. Her fingers carressed the back of his neck, and she started playing with the short hairs that curled slightly over the collar of his shirt, slowly raking her fingernails over his scalp in the process. Goosebumps of pleasure caused the hairs on his arms to stand up in response. _Fuckin’ hell._ He was up and ready to go in seconds. He coulnd’t suppress a hoarse groan; it being thankfully swallowed by the pounding music that surrounded them.

Where had she been hiding this lovely temptress? _Dear gods,_ the woman had more facets than a brilliant cut diamond. He’d seen her go from a happy-go-lucky outdoorsy girl-next-door, to an intellectual and sligtly geeky phd student, to a fierce lioness calling the Queen of fuckin’ Britain out on her questionable behaviour, to someone strong enough to show vulnerability and open up about the loss she’d suffered and the tough times she’d overcome, to a woman who bested Harry Wales like a pro wrestler, to an eloquent and charming dinner companion, to someone who stood by his side, opposite the press, and his fans, with her head held high and a smile on her face, graceful like a princess, in spite of the fear he’d seen on her face before she’d exited the car, and despite the nervous tremors he’d felt wrecking her body as he held on to her. 

He’d seen all of these different aspects of her personality in the space of twenty-four -give or take a few- hours, and he had to admit that each and every new trait he discovered endeared her to him even more. She intrigued him, and he couldn’t wait to explore what other facets her brilliant mind contained. The new facet she displayed in that moment, he had to admit, he liked. _Very_ much. Maybe a bit _too_ much. If they kept going like this, he’d take her right then and there, propriety be be damned.

 _Wait._.. Hadn’t he made a promise to himself that he’d take his time with getting to know her? With developing this relationship? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this yet... Maybe it would be better to slow down a bit.

 _Oh, shut up!_

His libido apparently didn’t give a shit about any of his moral objections and was completely focussed on ravishing the willing woman in his arms, but the Tom who still was in control of most other functions, such as critical thinking, and conscientious decision-making, refused to relinquish command to his more impulsive and indulgent side.

It would be _so_ easy to give in, to open his fly, reposition Liv on his lap, pull aside those sexy knickers of hers and drive himself home; to hold her tightly against him, looking for the world as if he was hugging her, while his hips would roll and grind in minute movements, his hard cock pressing into the tight, wet heat and softness, rubbing up against that most sensitive spot inside her, over and over, muting her cries of pleasure with his kisses, as he secretly and slowly rocked them both towards completion, without anyone being the wiser. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d pulled such a feat in a darkened club, with the music pumping loudly, drowning out all other sound.

The thought of having Olivia like that was almost enough to make him come in his trousers... But... it was just... The man he was today _detested_ the man he’d been back when he’d engaged in such activities.

Drunk on his own success after Thor had become a blockbuster hit, and with the vestiges of youthful twenties arrogance still lingering in his -very- early thirties mind, he’d taken more risks than what would be considered sensible. Going from party to party, from beer to spirits to body shots, and from pretty girl to even prettier girl. Everything around him had been larger than life, which had made him feel larger than life; he’d been invincible. It had been like riding a high for months on end, indulging in each and every pleasure he’d ever dreamed about, and until this day, he hadn’t the faintest idea how he had come out of that crazy time alive, and without contracting any diseases; or fathering any children for that matter.

From halfway through April twenty-eleven until roughly halfway through February twenty-twelve he’d lived the high-life of a celebrated break-through actor and Hollywood favourite. Then, on February ninth twenty-twelve, when he’d flown home to the UK for his birthday party, everything had come crashing down around him. Or, at least, he’d come crashing down, hard.

When the birthday-guests had gone home after attending the birthday get-together at his mum’s house, during which he’d knocked back any and all alcohol he could get his hands on and as a result got roaring-drunk, he’d gotten into a terrible fight with his older sister, Sarah, who’d had enough of his arrogant, smug, self-indulgent attitude, and his cocky, disrespectful behaviour towards her and their mum and sister, and she didn’t have any problems with telling him what a pompous dick he’d become.

It had been a blow-out of epic proportions, because he’d given her a piece of his mind, too,his alcohol addled mind convinced that he was the righteous one; and when the dust had cleared and he had been left standing in the torn up wreckage of his beloved family unit, with Sarah cowering in a corner of the livingroom as he threateningly towered over her with his hand raised, ready to strike, and his younger sister, Emma, trying to pull him back by his sweater, while their mother was crying out for him to stop with a horrified expression on her face, and tears coursing down her cheeks, he’d finally seen himself for what he’d become. A selfish asshole, bordering on abuse and alcoholism, who was well on his way to becoming a monster. He hadn’t recognised the man in that room. That whirling maelstrom of darkness and hate _couldn’t_ be him. That wasn’t _him_.

He’d broken down and fallen to his knees, right then and there; apologising, and desperately begging for forgiveness, crying out from the horror and deep shame he’d felt at becoming the abusive person he’d always feared his sisters would find in a boyfriend or spouse. Becoming the nightmare that sometimes kept him up at night, living with the fear of not being able to save one of his sisters from a faceless fiend. It turned out that that faceless fiend had been _him_ all along. From that moment of realisation, he’d spiralled down and had completely collapsed onto the floor, his body too heavy for his trembling muscles to support, purging the alcohol, and everything he’d eaten that day, from his system in several violent bursts of vomit. He hadn’t even had the strength to lift his face out of the growing puddle of sick.

That was when his mother and sisters had sprung into action; with a joined effort, they’d pulled him into a sitting position so that he wouldn’t suffocate on his own vomit. Somehow, after he was done being sick, they’d succeeded in hauling him up the stairs, and into the bathroom, where his mum had shooed his sisters out with the command to clean up the sitting room. Then she’d quietly stripped his clothes from his gaunt body. When she’d gasped in horror at seeing him so emaciated and had started to cry, he’d glanced in the mirror and had been shocked by how far his ribs stuck out above his abdomen. At that time, he couldn’t even remember losing so much weight that it could have resulted in him looking like someone from a famine scourged country.

Pushing him into the shower, she’d washed him as if he’d still been a little boy. Then she’d put him to bed, and he’d slept for three days straight, only waking up when she’d brought him home-made broth to eat, and tea, or water, to drink. Anything else he couldn’t hold down. It had taken him weeks to recover from his break-down, and even more weeks for him to come back to a healthy weight.

He’d hid out in his mum’s house for almost three months, doing nothing but sleeping and apologising -to both his mum and his sisters- for the first two to three weeks. After that, he’d started to talk to his mum, telling her about everything that he’d done and about everything that had happened to him. His mum, in turn, had stood by him when he’d broken down again and again, until, over time, the panic attacks and the feelings of shame and grief had lessened, and he’d been able to keep down food again. From that moment forward, he’d eaten more and more every day, quickly gaining back the lost weight and muscle-tone, and after six weeks at his mum’s, he’d started running on the beach again, increasing his fitness levels with the much needed exercise, while simultaneously clearing his head by inhaling big gulps of fresh sea air.

Nobody but he and his sisters knew about it, but his mum had somehow persuaded Marvel to reschedule his remaining few shoots for the Avengers movie. He still had no idea how she’d managed that, but it had put the fear of god into him where his mother was concerned. The unmovable object (Marvel) had met an unstoppable force (his mum) and had been forced to admit defeat. He’d been in awe of, and very intimidated by, the petite, soft-spoken woman who’d raised him.

Looking back, he could see how he’d been on a path of self-destruction after the Thor movie had come out, whether it had been intentional or not, he didn’t know. That whole almost-year of partying, drinking, and sexing, was hazy at best, and a happiness sucking black hole at its worst. Not something he’d like to think on for too long.

Which brought him back to the temptation sitting in his lap. Slowly, he started to end his snogging session with Liv, by pulling back a bit and giving her soft pecks on the lips; allowing her to come down gently from her rush of arousal. He lifted her slightly so she wasn’t pushing her cushy hip into his groin so much. No matter how much he wanted to continue and give in to his base instincts, experience had taught him that indulging too much, too soon, could do more harm than good. And he didn’t want that. Not with her.

‘Darling.’ He rumbled against her lips when she dove straight back into snogging him. He leaned back and looked at her with a serious expression. ‘Love, there’s nothing I’d like more than to continue down this path, but I think it’s time to take it back a notch.’

Liv groaned and pulled a face.

‘What? Why?’ She looked positively ravishing with her swollen lips and the passion burning in her eyes. Way too tempting.

Tom gave her a quick kiss.

‘Because you deserve better than a quick shag in a public place. I don’t want our first time together to be rushed and as exposed as we are now.’

With a sigh, Liv leaned up against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘What if I wouldn’t be opposed to a quick shag in a public place?’ Her voice sounded so deceptively innocent, and he was so distracted by the tickling of her breath against his neck, that it took him a couple of seconds to process the meaning of her words.

At her admission, his still pouting libido piped up immediately, but he pounded it back down with the force of a thousand Mjolnirs. _Nope. Not gonna happen_.

‘Not now.’ He said, both to her and to himself.

‘Alright... Maybe another time, then?’ She tilted her head as she gazed up at him.

He was on a first date and he was negotiating having public sex with the woman he fancied -whom he hadn’t even bedded yet- somewhere in the near future. How the hell did that happen?! He rubbed his face with a hand and shrugged noncommitally.

‘Maybe...’

He looked at her when she climbed off his lap, retaking her seat, and then smiled sweetly at him. _Little minx._

‘So, how about some dancing, eh?’ Apparently she’d caught on to his hesitation, and changed the subject; respecting his boundaries. ‘Let’s check out one of those balconies and have some fun with the music.’

Nodding in agreement, and secretly relieved that she’d read him so well that she hadn’t pushed any further than he’d been willing to go, he slid out of their booth and held out his hand to help her stand. The dimples in her cheeks appeared as she beamed at him in thanks. She took his hand, stood up, and pulled him along towards one of the balconies.

‘Come on, let’s check out this one.’ She said, looking back at him to see if he agreed. He smiled as he followed; unable to express anything more than that, afraid that if he talked he’d lay bare his soul, because, with the way he felt right then, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew... What a ride. O.O
> 
> If you want, leave the muse a few nomnoms, please. Thank you! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liv discovers online articles mentioning her evening out with Tom, and has a heart to heart with one of her cousins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I'm back! It's been a while. 
> 
> Is it too late to say, happy new year? Oh, what the hell. Happy New Year, everyone!
> 
> Here's a new instalment of Skye is the Limit. Enjoy!
> 
> I just love my Sandbox. :) Yay!
> 
> ps. TW: Mention of loss of a mother.

**Chapter 14**

 

______________________________

 

The Daily Mail

 

**Hiddleston’s Hotties: From Gorgeous and Tall to Plump and Small**

 

London - Saturday, March 25, 2017

_ By one of our reporters. _

 

After an absence of several long months from the public eye -not counting his promotional commitments for a certain action film featuring a giant primate-, everyone’s favourite British gentleman, Tom Hiddleston, was finally caught out and about in London again by one of our photographers who was present outside the Ministry of Sound nightclub last night.

Coincidentally, Tom was in the company of the same short, bosomy brunette, with whom he was spotted at a Mayfair pub on Thursday night, and who, we have to point out, is quite the departure from his world-famous, beautiful, blond, tall, and willowy ex whose name we will not mention. It looks like mr Hiddleston has a wide range in tastes when it comes to women.

We have all seen Thursday night’s candid pictures on the social media sites, of course; and if you haven’t, just look them up on your favourite search engine. They’re everywhere.

Now, we don’t know about you, but we are very curious about this curvaceous companion. Where they looked like they were merely friends on Thursday night -we agree with the comments of people claiming that, as the pair made their way through the pub, they looked like they were friends, and nothing more-, in our opinion, their body language told a completely different story on Friday. 

And then we’re not talking about the obligatory poses, waves and smiles for the fans and the cameras. Which were on point for both Tom and the Mystery Brunette, by the way.

No, we’re talking about their perceived closeness inside the club. 

Unfortunately, our photographer was not allowed into the club last night, so we have to go from the pictures and video made by party attendants. They are not of the best quality, due to the low lighting inside the club. Also, because not many people noticed Tom and the brunette dancing to the music on the small VIP balcony, there are only one recording and a few photos available.  See for yourself, and draw your own conclusions about them being just friends or not. Join the discussion if there was a visible kiss in the video, or if it was a hug between friends, on our social media pages. 

The evidence we’ve uncovered so far, leads us to cautiously believe that the Golden Globe winner might be off the market. We can’t be sure until we get an official statement, and Prosper PR, Tom’s media-wranglers, are currently unavailable for a comment. We are sure of one thing, though, and that is that Tom’s compact, curvy friend has had extensive media training.

She has either been trained by a PR firm, or she has experience with handling media attention. 

Both options raise many questions with our reporters, not in the last place that if she’s been trained by Tom’s PR representatives, then we’ve missed something HUGE in the past few months; like Tom having been off the market for quite a while, without any of us knowing it.

But, in case we, and with us the entire institution of British journalism, haven’t been kept in the dark intentionally, and the pair is in a very early stage of dating, the chubby girl does seem to know what she’s doing, posing in front of the cameras, minimally reacting to reporters’ inquisitive questions, and handling standing in front of large crowds like a pro, in spite of no-one knowing who she is, or where she came from. It’s quite the contradiction.

We can’t wait to find out more, and we’re sure to share all we find out about this development as soon as new information has come to our attention. Where did our mystery woman come from? Why have we never seen her before? Is she really Tom’s new love interest, or just someone he spends his time with? If you recognise her, or believe that you have any hot tips that could lead to her identity, send us an  email .

 

________________________________

 

Just Jared

 

SAT, 25 MARCH 2017 AT 10:44 AM

**Is Tom Hiddleston Off The Market, Or Is She Just A Friend?**

 

**Tom Hiddleston** appeared in public in London for the first time in months on Thursday the 23rd of March, during an outing to a pub in Mayfair. There, he was spotted with a brunette, whom the internet dubbed ‘just a friend’ almost immediately after photos of the outing started showing up on social media sites. 

We at Just Jared decided not to involve ourselves in the online frenzy, because there was no evidence of them being anything other than friends having a drink. 

Until now.

Surprise coloured our reaction when the Golden Globe winner was spotted again on Friday, for the second night in a row with said ‘mystery’ brunette. This time at a famous London nightclub, where they were filmed and photographed while dancing and cuddling on a balcony of the VIP lounge.

We reviewed the footage, and we have to say, they do look very cosy. Could it be that Tom is off the market? Or was it just a hug between friends?

We have contacted Tom’s representatives, and are waiting for a statement as we write this piece.

Stay tuned for updates on this developing story.

 

_____________________________________

 

Us Magazine

 

**Tom Hiddleston spotted At Ministry Of Sound With Mystery Woman**

**By Allison Broker**

 

It has come to our attention that Tom Hiddleston has been spotted with the same mystery woman, for two consecutive nights. First on Thursday, March 23, at The Clarence pub in Mayfair, which is quite a bit away from Tom’s usual haunts in Hampstead and environs, and then on Friday at the Ministry of Sound nightclub in Newington, on the South Bank of the Thames.

Footage and photographs have surfaced of both nights, and we have to say, it looks like mr Hiddleston has found himself a new bae. The internet and the news outlets are still very divided on whether or not the young lady in question is his new girlfriend, or just a friend he’s showing about town. Especially since the woman in question is such a deviation from his usual choice of female company.

We at Us Magazine are very interested in your opinions on this subject, so let us know in the comments what you think. If there is anyone who has more information on the mystery woman, and how she came to be in Tom’s life, please  contact us with your particulars and we will get back to you.

 

_______________________________________

 

 

 

She had been able to ignore it up to some point, but when the tickling feeling on her nose became worse, Liv grumbled and swatted at the offending finger which kept coming back for more irritating, itch inducing touches.

‘Fuck off.’ She groaned with a gravely voice, and turned her head away, burying her face into the lovely, soft pillow as she tried to go back to the awesome dream she was having. ‘Five more minutes.’ She pleaded when she felt how the mattress was compressed as a heavy body flopped down next to her, causing her body to shift towards the dent in her bed.

The sound of a MacBook starting up made her lift her head and glare venomously through the strands of her hair that had fallen into her face. She growled at the red-headed, bearded male who was sat next to her, leaning against the headboard of her bed, while he looked very chipper and very gleeful.

‘Don’t tell me, you woke up, had breakfast, and then decided that my room was the perfect place to get some work done.’ Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

Harry ignored her and reached down, next to the bed, picking up her Docs and dumping them on her person.

‘I cleaned your boots, as ordered.’ 

Letting out an ‘oomph’ at the heavy boots being deposited onto her stomach, she grabbed them and threw them over the side of the bed, where they landed on the wooden floor with two muffled thumps.

‘Hey, I even polished them for you, don’t scuff them again!’ Harry protested as he frowned at her.

‘Yeah, thanks.’ Liv sat up and rubbed her face, a yawn escaping her as he pushed her hair back. ‘So, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your presence? Did you just come in here to annoy me awake, or is there another nefarious reason behind this visit?’ Scratching her clavicle through her t-shirt, she glowered at her cousin, still miffed about being awakened so cruelly from her restful sleep.

‘Well...’ Harry stretched the word and grinned. ‘I got up relatively early in the hopes to catch someone doing the ‘walk of shame’.’ He made air-quotes with his fingers. ‘Either be it you, coming in, or _him_ , going out at the crack of dawn, but alas, it seems like he’s been the perfect gentleman and has dropped his date off at her house with just a goodnight kiss.’ He sounded almost disappointed as he shook his head. ‘Maybe I laid it on a bit thick when I threatened him with your brothers last night... Or maybe he was intimidated by the thought of me and Wills whooping his arse...’ A sigh escaped him, and he shrugged. ‘Ah, well... Shit happens.’

Looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, Liv groaned and flopped back onto her pillow. She was definitely feeling a bit hung-over and a lot tired. She’d come in at five in the morning, indeed after a very thorough goodnight snog from Tom, which still caused a warm glow to her insides as she remembered it, but she wasn’t going to kiss and tell, especially not to her cousin. A look at the clock told her that it had only just gone past eleven. She hadn’t even had more than five-and-a-half hours of sleep, for fucks sake.

‘Dude, if you have nothing essential to contribute to my day, then could you please go away and leave me in peace. I need more sleep.’ She closed her eyes and buried her face back into her pillow, stubbornly ignoring the annoying sounds of a rattling keyboard as Harry typed away on his laptop.

A snicker came from the direction of her cousin. She ignored it and was very invested in going back to sleep. The snicker was followed by a snort. _Nope. Not reacting. I’m asleep_.

Then...

‘Well, shit...’ 

Followed by a guffaw.

With a long suffering sigh, Liv sat back up again, scowling at Harry as she hit him in the face with her pillow.

‘Would you just shut up and leave?!’ By now she was too awake to easily fall back to sleep, and quite pissed off in a way a person could only be pissed off after a night of dancing and drinking too much and being pestered out of a blissful, restorative sleep by an asshole relative. ‘Do I have to remind you that I’m very good with a spade, and that you’re not even the spare anymore? You’re, like, fourth or fifth in line of succession; I can’t even remember how far you’ve slipped down that ladder. By the time they miss you and go looking for you, you’ll be buried inside some long barrow grave in the middle of nowhere. They’ll. never. find. you!’ She stressed each word with a hit from her pillow. 

The only reaction she got out of Harry, was maniacal laughter as he underwent her sorry excuse for a retaliation without trying to stop her and get one over on her. Which was something that never happened. Ever. Harry was competitive as fuck. This realisation stopped Liv in her tracks.

She lowered the pillow and watched how her cousin rubbed tears of mirth from his eyes while he was still cackling like a hyena. A feeling of trepidation overtook her.

‘What’s going on?’ She asked, very much feeling like she was missing a crucial piece of information.

Harry pointed at the screen of his laptop, where several tabs were open, showing different tabloid sites with screaming headlines. Tom’s name was glaringly visible in each and every title, which were unfailingly followed by grainy pictures of two people -one tall, one less so- dancing on a balcony in the half dark of a nightclub.

‘Well, my dear cousin, it looks like you’ve succeeded in pulling the crosshairs of the tabloids away from Meghan and myself. Something I’m very grateful for, but also... welcome to our world, darling!’ He burst out laughing again. ‘There’s no going back now.’ He howled. ‘Cat’s out of the bag!’

Liv made a dive for his laptop and pulled it towards her, her eyes flying over all the different articles that Harry had dug up from the dregs of online journalism. She clicked between the websites and on each and everyone of those sites there was something written about Tom and the ‘mystery woman’. Most of the articles were short and to the point, with only minimal speculation, and had a few pics and sometimes a video accompanying them, but some had really gone to town, and had seemed to have added on all of the photographs that had been taken on Thursday, and on Friday. The Daily Express went so far that they drew a list of bodily comparisons, and their attractiveness, between Liv and Taylor Swift, Tom’s famous ex, even taking an estimated measure of breast size.

‘Jesus Fuckin’ Christ... Are they for real?!’ Liv burst out laughing. ‘They’re sizing up my arse?! _AND_ MY TITS?!

Harry leaned in to see what she was pointing at.

‘Ah, yes, the ever so classy Daily Express.’ He snickered. ‘Not the most outrageous thing they’ve ever done... But...’ He pressed on when she started to interrupt him. ‘But... can you imagine their mortification when, in July, they find out that they’ve been sexually dissecting and writing lecherous things about a high-ranking member of the Royal Family?! I mean, they can go pretty low where our family members are concerned, but they have never crossed _that_ line.’ 

They looked at each other as almost identical evil grins appeared on their faces, and they shared a snicker before Liv clicked on another tab. She groaned when she read what was written about her and Tom.

‘Urgh, and The Daily Mail isn’t any better. As far as they are concerned, I am a short, fat ‘companion’ whom they are flabbergasted about even being in the same hemisphere as their beloved British gentleman; how did Tom _ever_ fall for someone like me? Did he even? Or am I just a friend? It’s a mystery... Oh, and they’re completely flummoxed as to how I came to be so savvy with handling photographers and large crowds, when Tom would turn out to be ‘just my friend’ and me being the frumpy nobody who no-one’s ever heard of.’ Shaking her head, Liv let out a exasperated breath. ‘And it just goes on and on and on...’ With a loud click, she closed the laptop. ‘At least they don’t know who I am, yet.’

‘With the emphasis on _yet_. You know how they can be when they smell a story. The vultures.’ Harry looked at her as his amused expression bled into one of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry that you can’t avoid it for much longer, or that we can’t protect you from this, dear Olivia.’

Liv sighed.

‘I know. Well, at least I have a bit of time to get used to it on a smaller scale, before all hell breaks loose this summer, eh?’ She grimaced when she thought of what awaited her.

A comforting arm was thrown around her shoulders, and Harry pulled her into him, enveloping her in a bear-hug.

‘It’ll be alright, old girl, we will be there, right beside you. We got your back. You know that, right? I mean, Wills and I, you’re like our slightly older little sister. We’d rather die than abandon you. Meghan and Katie see you as a sister, and you’re Georgie and Charlie’s aunt. You’re Nan’s granddaughter, maybe not by birth, but very much so in her heart. You’ve been an integral part of this family your entire life, and you’ve been our best kept secret. We would all fight to see you happy. And then I’m not even mentioning your father, and those four terrifyingly large and intimidating Scotsmen you call brothers. You think they won’t come to your aid if you need help?’

Overwhelmed by Harry’s sudden declaration of loyalty and brotherly love, Liv couldn’t help but let out a sniffle. She fought to keep back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall, as a powerful wave of love and belonging swept through her. Knowing that you belonged to a family, and _feeling_ that you _belonged_ were two completely different things. Unknowingly, Harry had just pulled the bonds between them that much tighter.

Will and Harry had always been more in her age range than her own brothers, with her being only two months older than Will and differing almost two-and-a-half years with Harry. Of her brothers, the youngest two were eight years older than she was, and the age gap with the eldest two was just over a decade. 

After their marriage, her parents had been blessed with two sets of twin boys within three years. And then, almost eight years after boy three and four, Olivia had come along, a little girl; completely unexpected, but very welcome. They had been a happy and tightknitted family unit. And then that terrible day came when a horse riding accident took away the beloved wife of Laird Macleod and the adored mother of four teenage boys and a two-year-old little girl. Her eldest brothers had been in boarding school by then, and her youngest brothers had been only a year away from going to boarding school themselves.

Which left her father with a tough decision while trying to nurse a broken heart and help his sons and small daughter through their loss. 

Because of his obligation to his ancestral lands and the upkeep of not just a castle, but a large part of the Isle of Skye, he had been unable to full-time care for a tiny toddler, and was hesitant to leave her in the care of nannies all the time. Which was how little Olivia had ended up being brought up between her father’s castle in Scotland and wherever the Royal family was residing, with her mostly staying with her ‘Nan’ and ‘Gampa’, or with ‘Uncle’ Charlie and ‘Auntie’ Diana, growing up with her two young cousins, like they were also her brothers. 

Both the Queen and Diana had always been very adamant about shielding Olivia from any prying eyes. They felt strongly that the little girl, as she stood at a unique position just outside the public’s view of the royals, should be protected from the scrutiny they, themselves, were under at all hours of the day. And so she had become the Palace’s best kept secret. The little girl the Queen and Princess Di had doted on from the moment she came into their lives, was the most invisible and therefore a very cherished part of the Royal family. And, to the Royal’s relief, none of the most trusted staff members of the inner circle ever betrayed the trust that was put upon them. Everyone was having too much fun, keeping the secret of the joyous and precious little girl who lit up the halls of the palaces and castles with her sunny disposition. Protecting the small part of the Royal family that was completely theirs, and no-one else’s.

And now that was something that was all going to change. Will and Harry would still be her brothers, and Nan would still be her Nan, but she would never again be ‘just’ Liv. This day was the first day of the rest of her life. Which would be lived in the spotlights, be it either now, through Tom’s celebrity, or in a few months, through the official reinstatement ceremony that would make her a visible part of the Royal family.

Wiping away a few stray tears, Liv mumbled into Harry’s jumper. ‘Life is never going to be the same again, is it?’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Harry always said it as it was. It was one of the traits that had endeared him to her over the years. ‘But we will all still be here, that’s not going to change. And you know Nan, she has the stamina to outlive us all.’

A chuckle escaped her at his humorous jest as she sat back up, Harry’s arms falling back to his sides.

‘Yes, I believe she is determined to see at least a hundred and fifty. Just leave it to her, to not only become the longest reigning monarch, but also to make it virtually impossible for anyone to beat her record.’

This had Harry laughing out loud.

‘Obstinacy and competitiveness run in the family, don’t they, Liv?’ He shot back at her.

This had Liv laughing, too.

‘Touché.’ She said, inclining her head to him to acknowledge his quick-wittedly drawn comparison between their Nan and Liv.

Then she pushed Harry’s laptop back into his hands and shuffled herself to the edge of her bed. 

‘Now, if you would be so kind to leave these quarters, my dear minion... I would like to get dressed without pesky little brothers in the room, thank-you-very-much.’ She waved her hand dismissively towards the door, raising an arrogant eyebrow at said pesky little brother.

Harry chuckled and rolled off the bed and onto his feet in one movement.

‘Yes, Your Royal Highness.’ He teased as he walked out through the door.

‘Oh, just go, you Royal Pain-in-the-Arse.’ Liv yelled after him good-naturedly.

A laugh sounded from the hallway, followed by a, ‘Love you, too, sis.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chapter, please take a moment out of your time to let me know that I'm not screaming into the void and being heard only sporadically.  
> Just a click on the Kudos button is enough.  
> Or, if you already did that, and you're not feeling like leaving feedback, just send me a *kudos* through the comment section. Just type it down and hit post/send. It would be enough.  
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> MessyInsomniacBookGirl


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia makes an oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the kudos, comments and feedback you left for me after the last chapter! It made my weekend! I love talking to you guys! :D
> 
> In my gratitude, I've written you a new chapter. (I think it tops at about 4000 words, so, look at me go on all those lovely comments! Yay!
> 
> Here you go! Enjoy!
> 
> The Sandbox is on fiiiiiiiiiirrrreeeeee! ;) 
> 
> XO

**Chapter 15**

 

Friday, 31 March, 2017. Oxford.

Liv had only just left the shower, and was drying herself with a big, fluffy towel, when her phone started to ring. Wrapping the large towel around her person, she made her way out of her tiny shower room and into her slightly bigger bedroom, which could only just hold a double bed, its headboard and one of its sides pushed up against the two walls that formed one corner of the room. There, her phone lay ringing on the narrow nightstand that only just fit between the other side of the bed and the third wall of her bedroom. She shivered in the cool morning air that greeted her when she stepped out of the steamed up bathroom. Cold water dripped from her wet hair onto her shoulders and her back as she picked up the phone; the small, icy droplets that rolled down her skin eliciting another shiver. She noticed the time on the alarm clock. Almost five in the morning. 

Looking at the caller ID, she saw that it was Tom.

Was he ringing to tell her he had been delayed? He was supposed to pick her up at six, so that they would be able to make it to Manchester with about an hour to spare until his radio interview began, which would be broadcast live, at five past ten. The hour between their arrival and the broadcast would leave Tom with enough time to be briefed on the direction of the interview and on the nature of the questions, so that he could prepare a few answers beforehand.

Sliding the green telephone icon that had lit up on her screen to the right, she answered her phone.

‘Tom?’

‘Good Morning, Olivia. Are you awake yet?’ Tom sounded very chipper for it being so early.

‘Um, yes? I was in the shower. What is it? Are you delayed?’

‘No. No, I’m not delayed. There’s just one problem.’

‘And that is...’ Liv let her voice trail off to coax the answer out of him.

‘Well, I woke early, and I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I had an early start.’ He sounded very apologetic about that. Why?

‘Okay...’ Where was this going?

‘And I thought, if I left a bit earlier, then we could have breakfast together.’ It only now occurred to her that she couldn’t hear any car sounds through the speaker.

‘Um...’ Outside, a couple of the churches started to ring their five o’clock boings, which were echoed through the speaker of her phone. It was as if he... Liv’s eyes widened.

_He didn’t..._

She climbed up onto her bed and quickly crawl-shuffled over to the window, while trying to hold the towel in place on her body with one hand and the phone in place against her ear with the other. Clamping the towel against her breasts with the arm of the hand that held the phone, she moved the heavy, dark blue velvet curtain to the side and peered down at the cobbled street in front of her house

There was a gleaming, sleek, black, ridiculously expensive looking Jaguar sports car parked under the street lamps, and next to it stood Tom, looking at her front door, and holding a paper bag from one of the early opening bakeries in Oxford. Somehow, he saw the sudden movement of the curtain on the first floor, and the sliver of light spilling out into the night, and he looked up. When he saw her looking down at him, he threw her a devastatingly sexy smile. 

_He so totally did..._

‘Hello, beautiful.’ He said into his phone. She could see the movements of his mouth just a fraction of a second earlier than the sound of his warm voice reached her ears. ‘Will you have breakfast with me?’ He held up the bag in his hand and wiggled his eyebrows.

Snorting into the phone, she shook her head at his antics.

‘Well, apparently you’re already here, with food... and I like food, so...’ 

‘Will you please allow me to come in? It’s really cold outside.’ He looked up with such a sad puppy face that she burst into laughter.

‘How can I say no to that face?! Just a moment. I’ll let you in.’ She hung up, dropped her phone onto the mattress, and slid from the bed, holding onto her towel with two hands as she carefully shuffled down the very narrow and steep staircase that connected her bedroom with her sitting room; it wouldn’t do to trip in her hurry to open the front door, and break her neck. That would really put a damper on the day.

A bit out of breath -surely not from descending the staircase, or making her way to her front door, which was two steps away from it- she pulled open the beige door that was about two-thirds the height of a normal door. The cottage she lived in really was tiny, with its doors also being in keeping with the over-all styling. The ceiling with its beams was only six feet four in height at its lowest points, and six feet eight at its highest, between the beams. 

Liv stepped into the door opening and looked up at Tom, who was slightly more than half a foot too tall for the entrance to her house. She grinned up at him.

‘Hi.’ 

‘Hello, my darling Sprite. You are once again soaked. Do you have a tendency to drench yourself in water?’ Tom smiled mischievously back at her.

Shivering from the crisp, early morning air she was letting into the dwelling, she stepped back and invited him into her house.

‘As much as I want to keep talking nonsense on my doorstep, I’d rather do this indoors. Please come in before I catch pneumonia. It’s freaking cold out there... Oh, and watch your pretty face, the door is sprite sized. Wouldn’t want you to smash your nose against the plaster and wood of the facade.’

Tom chuckled and bent slightly at the waist so he could step inside, keeping his head down as he ducked under the door lintel. Once inside, he looked up at the ceiling with a slightly worried expression on his face. 

Liv quickly pushed the door closed, effectively shutting off the cold air that was trying to take over her slightly warmer house, and turned to him.

‘Don’t worry, the ceiling beams are about six four at their lowest points, so, as long as you avoid walking into the lamps,’ she pointed at the two ceiling lamps that lighted her kitchen and her sitting room, ‘I think you’re good with standing up.’ Liv wasn’t sure if he believed her, he looked doubtful for a second. But then the determined expression she had seen before appeared on his face.

‘Alright.’ Tom said, and he straightened out to his full height. Standing up, the tips of the curls at the top of his head only just brushed against one of the beams. A chuckle escaped Liv at seeing his relief at not conking himself out against her ceiling.

‘See? You’re good.’ She nodded to the front and back doors. ‘Just watch yourself when navigating the doors, okay?’ 

‘Right.’ Tom said, observing the rustic door at the back of her house, that led to the tiny utility room that housed her washer and dryer stacked on top of each other, and, squeezed in between them and the wall, a toilet. This door was even smaller than the front door. ‘Does that lead to Wonderland?’ He pointed to the height of the door, which forced even her to duck her head under the lintel if she wanted to avoid getting scalped.

Liv sighed dramatically and shook her head.

‘I wish, but alas, no. That’s the utility room, where the washing of clothes takes place, and the occasional number one and number two.’ She grinned at Tom, who looked like he was storing the information before he realised what she’d said.

‘Ah.’ He nodded in understanding. ‘Toilet.’ Looking at the door again, he frowned. ‘Well, that’s going to take quite a lot of flexibility on my part, then... Or a sip of shrinking potion...’ 

A laugh bubbled up at his humorous reference, and she decided to put him out of his misery. Pointing up the stairs, she reassured him that he had an alternative.

‘Upstairs are the bedroom and an adjoining shower room, which consists of a shower, wash basin, and another toilet. It has a reasonably tall door. The room is still not big, but might be a bit more suited to your size.’

‘Well, that’s a relief.’ He deadpanned as he hesitantly looked up the steep, narrow, wooden staircase, probably wondering about how he was going to navigate his oversized -for her house- body up there. It was a good thing the man was slender. ‘You live in a doll-house.’ He stated as he looked back to her. Wonder and delight alternating with trepidation and humour were the dominant expressions on his face.

‘Yet still, it suits my needs, and fits my size.’ She shrugged. ‘And it’s so easy to clean. I can do everything in one afternoon. Leaves much more time for doing more important and enjoyable things.’ A smile appeared on her face. ‘Let me show you around.’

Grabbing the wrist of his hand that held the bag with their breakfast -which, she had to admit, smelled delicious-, Liv pulled him from the doorstep, through her snug sitting room, which consisted of a two seater sofa standing in front of a floor to ceiling bookcase that was filled to bursting with all kinds of books, a tiny coffee-table, and a small flatscreen tv, which was stood on a cabinet with drawers. She pointed at the furniture. ‘Sitting room.’ She said, and then led him to her kitchen-nook, with its two-burner-stove-and-foot-wide-oven, and tiny sink and fridge. ‘Kitchen.’ She nonchalantly gestured at the appliances.

Next to the ‘kitchen’ there was a small dining table pushed up against a wall which had a couple of narrow bookshelves attached to it. The table was surrounded by three chairs and covered in several papers that needed grading, which were held down by a laptop. Liv clumsily picked up papers and laptop in one hand, and walked the five -okay, maybe it was more like four... or three- steps over to her sofa, dumping the papers on the threadbare cushions and pinning them down again with the laptop. Their authors would murder her if she misplaced them.

Then, she stepped back to the table and chairs and made a grand gesture with one hand, while making sure that she didn’t flash Tom anything ‘delicate’ as she clasped the towel closed with the other. ‘Dining room and office.’ She stated with a proud grin and a wink. ‘Please sit down, and make yourself at home, while I go upstairs to dry my hair, and put some clothes on.’

Tom sat his phone and the bakery bag down on the table and took off his black, puffy winter coat; hanging it over one of the chairs. Underneath, he was wearing a dark blue, very tight-fitting, finely knitted jumper, which left nothing to the imagination. It showed off his very fit physique in excruciating detail.

After their date on Friday night, she hadn’t seen him until today, only talked with him on the phone and exchanged text messages, and she’d almost forgotten about the trim figure and defined muscles that she’d felt pushed up against her, while snogging him senseless during their goodnight kiss at the kitchen door of her uncle’s house. It had been a week since, and everything that had happened had started to take on a surreal aura in her mind, as the week progressed.

She stood frozen as she took him in, forgetting that she needed to get dressed. Biting her lip, she watched his muscles flex as he rolled up his sleeves, remembering dreamily how strong his arms had felt under her hands.

Suddenly, he stopped, and her eyes flew up to his, catching his gaze just as it changed from surprised to heated. She licked her lips nervously when the silence between them stretched, and seemed to build up to something... more. 

Tom took a step towards her, his whole countenance changing from friendly to a more serious, a more tense posture. It was almost predatory in nature. Taking a small step back, towards the staircase, Liv slowly let her eyes travel up and down his body, and up again, to catch his gaze with hers, letting her want for him bleed into the expression on her face. He let out a groan.

‘Oh, little Sprite, you’re playing with fire.’ His voice was low in its teasing warning. ‘I promised myself that I’d go slow with you, but if you keep looking at me like that, dressed the way you-’ 

His voice cut off immediately when she dropped her towel. She had no idea where she’d found the utter cheek to do that, but she did. A blush traveled up from her chest to her cheeks, and she fought the impulse to shyly look away. Instead, she kept her eyes on him, on his suddenly flabbergasted expression, and took a step forward, and another. The third step had her brushing up against him. His breath hitched when the movement pushed her ample chest against his upper abdomen; her nipples hardening from the friction against the smooth cloth of his jumper.

Craning her neck so she could keep looking at his face, Liv felt a tender smile pull on her lips. He wanted. He wanted, so badly, so very much. She could see it clearly; on his face, in his eyes, in his body-language as he towered over her. 

There was something in the way he carried himself that made her look closer though, and, suddenly, she could also see his astonishment, and his hesitation as his eyes searched her face in uncertainty. It was as if he had trouble to comprehend what was happening, and was unable to figure out how to appropriately react. And that was what made her hesitate, and rethink her actions, and retreat.

She became aware of the fact that she’d very possibly made a gross miscalculation. That she’d offered too much, by failing to read a mischievous flirtation for what it was, a flirtation that was never meant to elicit a reaction like hers.

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, fearing that she had just crossed a couple of very important invisible lines where Tom’s personal boundaries were concerned. She felt like crying. ‘Sorry...’ Taking a couple of steps back, she reached down to pick up the towel. ‘I’ll just...’ pressing the towel to her front to hide her nudity, she retreated further backwards, towards the stairs. Too mortified to even look at Tom, Liv’s gaze shot around the room. Flitting over every single object without ever coming to a stop. She’d look at anything but him. _Shit. So stupid. Fucked everything up._

Her brain was firing expletives at random as she tried to extract herself from the situation. _Fucking completely read that wrong, didn’t you?! Shit. Shit. Shit..._

With cheeks flaming and tears threatening to fall, she put her right foot on the first step of the stairs. Without actually looking at the tall man who was stood in the middle of her house, a stunned silence hanging about him, she addressed him with a tremble in her voice.

‘I’m really sorry. I... um... I’ll just go and get dr-’ The sentence ended in a surprised squeak against a firm mouth, when Tom crossed the distance between them with two giant strides and cradled her face gently in his big hands before pressing his lips to hers in a soft, closed-mouthed kiss, which, in spite of its chaste nature, somehow overflowed with passion and longing. 

It took her a few seconds to overcome her bewilderment. Liv started to melt into the kiss just before her brain pushed forward the memory of Tom’s initial hesitation and her own mortification. Making a soft, confused sound in the back of her throat, she pulled back, her eyes wide in shocked surprise when she locked gazes with him. A trembling breath escaped her.

‘What...’

‘Ah, fuck... I really fucked that up, didn’t I?’ Tom interrupted her before she could finish her sentence.

‘What? No!’ Did he really think _he_ was in the wrong? ‘ _I’m_ the one who fucked up.’ How on earth did he come to the conclusion that he was at fault? _She_ was the one pushing for things he wasn’t ready for.

‘What? No, you didn’t.’ Tom looked confused by her declaration. ‘I’m the one who put his foot in his mouth without even saying anything... And I hurt you with my silence and indecision. I’m so sorry, Liv.’ His expression was one of contrition. Caressing her cheeks with his thumbs, he rested his forehead against hers. 

‘But, I’m the one who pushed too far. I went too fast.’ He tried to interrupt her again, but she was faster. ‘No, don’t deny it. I could see it on your face.’ Liv sighed sadly as she gently pulled his hands away from her face with one hand, while keeping her towel in place against her chest with the other. ‘I’m the one who crossed lines which you clearly weren’t ready to cross. And I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m so sorry...’ Her voice trailed off into a whisper as tears stung in her eyes. 

Tom shook his head and chuckled softly.

‘Oh, darling girl. It’s not that I’m not ready...’ He took a small step forward, gently pressing his body against hers, his arms going around her to hold her, hands splaying out on her naked back, rubbing her spine with soothing movements. Or, he probably thought they were soothing. They were anything but, and desire pooled low in her tummy as he continued his caresses. She had trouble focusing on his next words. ‘What you saw, was me being completely dumbstruck by something I wasn’t expecting. Darling, I want nothing more than to act on what you just offered. I am honoured, and so incredibly humbled, by your ability to show such vulnerability and bravery where I am concerned.’

Liv sighed, and melted into him a bit, unable to escape the relaxed, almost trance-like state the caresses those big, warm hands of his had put her in. It didn’t escape her notice that they never strayed below her waist, though. In spite of her naked bum being right there. 

‘But?’ She asked, encouraging him to continue; She could clearly hear a ‘but’ in there.

‘But, I don’t want our first time together to be a fast, rushed tumble between the sheets with a time limit of...’ He looked at the watch on his wrist. ‘...twenty-five minutes. I don’t want that for either of us.’ His gaze caught hers when he leaned back slightly; a mischievous little smile lighting up his face. ‘Now, if tonight, when we are safely ensconced in our cosy little hotel room, you would be amenable to a repeat performance of that devastatingly sexy towel drop... Well... Who knows what could happen...’ Tom’s eyes danced with humour and heat as his smile turned devilishly seductive. Liv could only stare back in astonishment. _Um... okay... yeah... no problem... let’s go!_ Her libido was completely aboard with this, apparently.

He gave her a chaste little kiss on her nose, and put his hands on her shoulders. Then he turned her around on the stairs and gave her a very gentle push to get her moving. 

‘Go put some clothes on that delectable body of yours, Sprite, we need to be on the road in twenty, and I’ve found these delicious looking beignets and some macarons that I want to sample before we go.’

A snort escaped Liv when she looked back at him.

‘I thought you said you brought breakfast?... Hey, my eyes are up here!’

Tom had a bit of trouble tearing his very appreciative gaze away from her naked bum, but when he did, he grinned apologetically.

‘Sorry, darling, got a bit distracted.’ Liv rolled her eyes at him and raised her eyebrows, indicating that she was waiting for an answer on breakfast. He shrugged. ‘Beignets and macarons are food, too.’

‘They are dessert.’ Liv said, wrinkling her nose at him as she walked up the stairs. ‘I hope you brought more than just dessert?’ She disappeared into her bedroom and pulled open a dresser to find some clean knickers and a bra.

A laugh sounded from downstairs and Tom called after her, ‘I’ve also got some croissants, and a couple of cheese rolls. That okay?’

‘Better!’ She called back, quickly putting her underwear on, and diving into her wardrobe to pull out the black, coated jeans she’d worn on their pub ‘date’. She’d taken it home with her from her uncle’s house. They were now the nicest pair she owned, and to travel in that ridiculously luxurious car of Tom’s while looking like she walked out of a hobo street fair, just wouldn’t do. Thankfully the jeans were comfy enough, and didn’t pinch anywhere when she had to sit for a longer stretch of time. She paired the jeans with a fitted, finely knitted, black jumper with a waterfall neckline. Quickly, she put on rainbow-coloured socks and fastened a fine rose-golden necklace, with a small white-golden unicorn with rose-golden manes and hooves, around her neck. It had been given to her by her father on her eighteenth birthday, and it was the same unicorn that was represented in the Royal coat of arms, uniting both her English and Scottish heritage in one small pendant.

When she passed the stairs on her way to the bathroom, the smell of fresh coffee wafted past her. It looked like Tom had found her coffee machine and got it to work. Yay for coffee. 

She was still feeling a bit ashamed about what had happened earlier, but as Tom didn’t seem to mind, and went on with ‘business-as-usual’, she decided to let it go and enjoy the day, and their upcoming short holiday break. Shaking her head at the thought of her own ill-considered antics and subsequent remorse, she dug out her make-up bag from the hiking backpack that stood at the top of the stairs, waiting to be packed into Tom’s car, and walked into the bathroom.

After checking in the bathroom mirror that her hair had dried into acceptable natural waves, she moisturised the skin of her face and neck. Deciding that applying some bb cream to her face, a few strokes of lilac eyeshadow on her eyelids, and some mascara to her lashes, were enough for a day of travel, she made quick work of her make-up, and then made her way downstairs with her backpack, to the coffee. And Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked, please let me know, and throw the muse some nomnoms.
> 
> Cheers!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A road-trip, a visit to BBC Manchester, and a stupid coffee run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo, look at me go! Another 4000+ word update!
> 
> That lovely feedback from you people really got me writing!
> 
> Keep it coming, darlings! Keep it coming! :D
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> XO

**Chapter 16**

 

It had taken them just under three hours to drive from Liv’s house in Oxford to MediaCityUK in Manchester, where the BBC Radio Manchester studios were. At five to nine, Tom drove the Jag into the MediaCity parking garage and managed to almost immediately find a parking spot on the second level. 

They’d filled the three hour drive with stories about their childhood, their university years, and their families, with a heated discussion on why, according to Liv’s not very well received opinion, macarons were _not_ breakfast food -which led to the birth of Official Agreement 001. Macarons will never be mentioned during long drives, ever again-, and with listening to each other’s favourite songs, with Liv being the DJ who took song requests. To her surprise, they liked much of the same music; although there were exceptions, as she had a playlist with obscure indy bands and singers whom Tom had never even heard about, but seemed to take a liking to, mostly.

Exiting the car after Tom had parked it, Liv turned around to lean back in, and pulled her jacket and her dark red, leather shoulder-bag out of the space behind the passenger seat. It was still quite chilly and she was grateful for the faux-fur lined jacket. It was the same leather jacket she’d worn on their dates. At first she hadn’t wanted to take it with her, but it had grown on her -oh, okay, she loved how comfy and warm it was, and how bad-ass she looked in it- and she’d put it into her backpack when she’d left London to go back home to Oxford.

Putting the jacket on and zipping it closed all the way up to her chin, she looked at Tom over the top of the Jag, while carefully pushing the door closed. Maybe a bit too carefully, because Tom shot her an amused look. Okay, so she was afraid she’d damage the posh car. She’d mentioned it when they’d first driven off in Oxford, and Tom had snickered at her hesitation to touch anything in case she broke something. Who drove such a ridiculously expensive thing anyway? _Urgh..._

‘So... Any idea where we are going?’ She flung her shoulder-bag over her shoulder and walked around the front of the car, coming to a stop in front of him.

Tom shrugged, and fished his phone out of his trouser pocket while he lowered his head and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Then he straightened again, frowning slightly.

‘Haven’t the foggiest, to be honest. I’ve never been here before.’ He started to scroll through his phone. ‘Luke gave me a contact number to call when I arrived.’ Bringing the phone to his ear, he lay his arm on the Jag’s roof and tapped out a rhythm with his long fingers. 

Apparently, it didn’t take long for someone to answer. Tom introduced himself, explained where he was parked, and listened to the person on the other side.

‘Alright, thanks mate, I’ll see you downstairs.’ He said when the person was done speaking.

And that was that. Tom rang off and smiled at her. _Must be nice to have people to sort out your stuff,_ she pondered.

‘Someone will pick us up downstairs, in front of the lift.’ He looked around the parking garage. ‘Now all we have to do is find the lift.’

Liv gestured at a pedestrian exit sign in the distance.

‘I think it’s over there.’

Tom turned around and looked to where she was pointing.

‘Ah, yes, that must be it.’ He bent down and leaned into his car to grab his coat. ‘Still bloody cold, isn’t it?’ Pulling on the puffy black jacket, he shivered. ‘Are you sure that mountain hike, trek, thing, on Skye is such a good idea?’

Raising a challenging eyebrow at him, Liv scoffed.

‘You getting cold feet, Hiddleston?’ 

‘I’m getting a cold everything.’ Tom grumbled as he zipped up his coat and put his phone back into one of his jeans pockets.

‘Aw, poor baby. Well, I have to tell you that I’m bringing a very cosy tent, and sleeping bags that zip together. And we’ll be in the middle of nowhere, so no-one around to hear... anything.’ She wiggled her eyebrows at him. ‘But... If you don’t want to go-’ Sashaying away from him, she let her shoulders hang in mock defeat.

Grabbing her hand, Tom pulled her back to him; his arms coming around her like steel bands, pressing her up against his hard body. Liv subconsciously licked her lips in anticipation.

‘How cosy?’ He asked, voice low and gravelly.

‘ _Very_ cosy.’ She answered, sending him a seductive smile. ‘And warm.’

‘How in the middle of nowhere?’

‘ _Very, very_ far away from anyone who could hear... something.’

Tom hummed as he lowered his head and hovered his lips just a fraction of an inch above hers.

‘I think I’m starting to like this idea of yours.’ He murmured, and finally rubbed his lips over hers, but only lightly. 

‘I thought you would.’ She said cheekily while she lifted up onto her tippy toes to add some much needed pressure to their smooch, but Tom moved with her, keeping the kiss - _not kiss_ \- feather light and teasing. _Teasing bastard._

‘Nuh-uh.’ He whispered against her lips. ‘First work, then play. I can’t go into that studio all flustered and ruffled, darling Sprite. Though they are not paparazzi, they are still the press.’ 

With a disappointed sigh, Liv lowered herself down again, and grumbled.

‘Now _I’m_ getting a cold everything.’

The heartfelt complaint made Tom chuckle.

‘Don’t worry, love, it won’t be for long.’ He took her chilly hand into his warm one, and led her towards the parking garage exit. ‘We’ll be on our way north before you know it.’

‘We better be. I have blue balls.’

‘That’s not even a thing.’ 

‘Well, it is now. Blue balls, blue tits, blue muffin, blue everything.’ Her peeved reply had Tom roaring with laughter. His guffaw echoed through the concrete building.

He let go of her hand, and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, and kissed her temple. Liv automatically put her arm around his waist, hooking her index-finger into one of the belt-loops of his jeans.

‘Come on, let’s see if we can get us a good cup of coffee before I have to go to work.’ Pushing open the door that led to the hallway that contained the lift and the stairs down to the street, Tom gestured to the lift. ‘Do you want to take the lift, or are we walking down?’

Letting out a scoffing huff, Liv let go of him and walked to the stairs.

‘It’s only two floors down. I think I’ll live if we take the stairs.’ She looked back at him and sent him a toothy grin. ‘Race ya down?’ 

The challenge didn’t go unanswered and with a laugh of delight, Liv quickly started her descent to the ground floor, running down the stairs, and holding on to the hand rails on both sides of the stairway, effectively stopping Tom from taking over her lead position. Until, when she was about to descent the last set of stairs, Tom grabbed the rail of the second to last set of stairs, and hauled himself over it, and past her, with a mighty jump, landing on the ground floor tiles with the agility of a panther.

In her consternation over his unexpected move, Liv let out an indignant cry, and barreled down the last few steps rather uncontrolled, causing her to almost crash into Tom with full speed. Thankfully, Tom saw her coming and caught her before she could do any damage, to herself, or to him.

He grinned at her.

‘I win!’ 

‘Cheat!’ The accusation left her almost immediately after his self-proclaimed win. She slapped his bicep with the back of her hand in retaliation.  _Ouch, hard..._

‘Hey! You’re one to talk, not giving me a chance to overtake you by obstructing the whole staircase.’ Tom shot back humorously. He didn’t really seem to mind to have his arms full of miffed, curvy woman. Lowering his lips to hers, he squeezed the handful of bum he’d found himself holding after their almost crash.

‘What are you doing?’ Liv whispered, surprised by Tom’s sudden amorous action. Apparently, the man liked himself a chase.

‘I’m accepting my reward for winning.’ He murmured back.

‘What about work first, play later?’ She wondered, just before Tom’s lips claimed hers.

‘ _Fuck_ work.’ The low rumble of his voice in his chest vibrated through her, straight to her core. A soft moan escaped her when he squeezed her bum again, those long fingers of his close enough to the heat between her legs to cause some much needed pressure. Tom’s tongue caressed her lips, requesting entrance to her mouth, which she more than happily granted, stroking his tongue with hers in a languid movement, eliciting a groan from deep within him.

A loud beep of a car horn coming from somewhere inside the parking garage startled them both out of what could have become a very awkward situation for them, and for the person who had been sent to collect them. In spite of knowing this, Liv let out a disappointed sound when Tom started to pull back. 

With a soft laugh, Tom slowly let go of her, putting her back on her feet -when had he hauled her up against him?- and giving her one last peck on the lips.

‘Saved by the horn.’ He joked.

‘ _Fucking cock blocker_.’ Liv muttered under her breath as she combed her fingers through her hair. Tom let out a snicker at her heartfelt exclamation. A feeling of frustration coursed through her body and she sighed in defeat. ‘How long until you’re done here?’ She asked.

‘Two hours, two-and-a-half tops.’ 

‘Alri-’ A knock sounded on the window behind her before she could even start that sentence. Turning around, she saw a young man, almost a teenager still, grinning at her and Tom. ‘Talk about being saved by the horn.’ She deadpanned.

‘Indeed.’ Tom’s voice sounded deceptively devoid of emotion, and she turned to him with narrowed eyes, taking in his relaxed countenance and the twinkle of humour in his eyes. 

‘Are you laughing at me?’

‘What gave you _that_ idea?’ He sounded genuinely surprised, but she could see how the corners of his mouth almost unnoticeably pulled up. 

Pointing at him, and narrowing her eyes, she observed the tell tale cues of his amusement.

‘I can _see_ you laughing.’

‘I’m not laughing.’ He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I _swear_.’

‘Uh-huh. _Sure_. And I’m the Queen of Britain.’ Liv countered.

‘Well, _technically_ -’ 

‘Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence.’ Fighting to keep her own laugh reflex under control, she managed to keep her tone strict and unamused.

‘Whatever your Majesty desires.’ 

‘You’re going to regret that choice of words, _m’eudail*._  I’ll hold you to them.’ 

‘Oh, I’m _counting_ on it.’ The sexy grin he flashed her, set her on fire all over again. _Bastard._

Unfortunately, she hadn’t the chance to think up a witty comeback, because the young man who had just knocked on the window had decided that they were taking too long to come outside, and had entered the hallway where they were standing.

He immediately stepped up to Tom, holding out his hand with a big smile on his face.

‘Hello, mr Hiddleston. It’s such an honour to meet you. I’m Gareth, the assistant of Kelly Murray, one of the producers of the show.’ Pumping Tom’s hand up and down enthusiastically after Tom had taken his hand to shake, he kept on smiling his almost worshipping smile.

Liv had to hide an amused grin behind her hand. The boy was absolutely smitten with Tom.

‘Hello Gareth, please, call me Tom.’ Tom graciously replied, then he let go of the young man’s hand and gestured to Liv. ‘This is Olivia... my girlfriend. Who was so kind to accompany me today.’

Raising her eyebrows at Tom in astonishment at his designation of her, and only getting a shrug and a mischievous smile in return, she quickly focused on Gareth, as the man took her hand as enthusiastically as he had Tom’s; pumping it up and down with such gusto, that she was afraid that he’d pull her arm out of its socket.

‘Hi.’ She said, smiling a friendly smile and trying to not let it turn into a grimace. ‘Nice to meet you, Gareth.’

‘Oh, It’s nice to meet you, too, Olivia.’ Thankfully he let go of her hand after this initial greeting, and gestured for them to follow him. ‘I’ve been sent to escort you to the Quay House. That’s where the BBC Manchester radio shows are broadcast from. It’s just a few minutes down the road.’

Both Tom and Liv followed him outside, where, in spite of the cold, the sun shone brightly. It really was a lovely day, Liv reminisced. Maybe they could go for a walk in the hills later on, when they’d arrived at Tom’s mystery hotel in the Lake District. He had been adamant that the location stay a surprise, so she hadn’t been able to look it and its surroundings up online.

As Gareth had said, it took them only a minute or two to make their way to the Quay House, which was a large, glass fronted building with a big, paved square in front of it. Gareth took them in through the main entrance, and checked them in at the reception desk; providing both Tom and Liv with a Visitor VIP pass. Apparently the normal visitor passes didn’t get you any farther than the offices, and they needed to be at the broadcasting studios.

Looking around the huge reception lobby, Liv noticed that there were suspiciously many young women wearing office attire mulling around, some sitting on the sofas that were scattered through the space at random intervals, pretending to talk to each other, and some were walking through the lobby, carrying folders, but not really being in a hurry. All eyes were on Tom. And only a few of those were also on her. The ones focused on Tom were infinitesimally more kind -and more heated, too- than the ones that focused on her, though.

Tom and she had come in flanking Gareth, before coming to a stop in front of the reception desk, while the young man printed out their visitor passes behind it. They hadn’t touched, or spoken to each other while standing there, as Tom was talking to Gareth, and apparently that was what kept all eyes present in the lobby from incinerating Liv into a pile of ash. 

When Tom turned to her and hung one of the two black lanyards with a visitor pass around her neck, flashing her a tender smile that was meant only for her, and no-one else, and then proceeded to kiss the tip of her nose and take her hand in his, weaving their fingers together and pulling her along after Gareth, who preceded them to the lifts, an unnatural silence fell over the lobby. Neither man seemed to notice it, but Liv felt the hairs on her neck stand up in unease. Chancing a glance back at the lobby, just before she stepped into the lift, confirmed her feeling of being watched. All eyes were on her. Some were curious and neutral, and some were friendly, looking romantically awestruck at Tom’s cute behaviour towards her, but a couple of others were quite disconcerting, varying in degrees of negative emotion, from mild jealousy, to outright disgust, to venomous hatred.

_Fucking hell... Shit just got real. Welcome to the world of dating the internet’s ideal boyfriend._ Provided her shocked brain. Biting her lip, Liv tried to blink away those alarmingly penetrating stares from her retinas as the lift doors closed and shut out the negative energy that was flowing her way. Goosebumps raised on her arms, and she suppressed a shiver.

Tom must have noticed her sudden unease, because he gently squeezed her hand, and lowered his head, so he could talk to her under his breath.

‘What’s wrong?’ He inquired, sounding curious.

‘Nothing.’ Shrugging it off, she sent him a smile that didn’t completely reach her eyes. ‘Someone walked over my grave, I guess.’

The look he gave her told her that he wasn’t buying what she was selling, and she sighed. The man read other people too well.

‘I’ll tell you later, alright?’ She quietly conceded. To her relief, Tom nodded, and didn’t press any further. How to explain to him what she’d just experienced when a coworker of the instigators in question was right there with them in the lift. Oh, the office gossip that that would incur. She was loathe to think about it.

A soft ‘ _pong_ ’ sounded, and the lift doors opened. Once again, Gareth went in front of them, and Tom and Liv followed. Thankfully, they didn’t have to go far, as the young man stopped in front of a door with an unlit ‘On Air’ sign above it. 

‘This is us.’ He said jovially. ‘Kelly is already in, she’s around here somewhere, and Justin and Ian are set to arrive in...’ He looked at his phone. ‘About twenty-five minutes. We’re on in forty-five, so make yourselves at home. There’s a coffee and tea machine in the hallway.’ He pointed at a huge, black and red contraption down the hall, which had an almost infinite amount of buttons that would undoubtedly give one an almost infinite amount of choices of coffee and tea. ‘And we have a snack table inside.’ Opening the door to the space beyond, he stepped through; Tom following him in, and pulling Liv with him as he went.

Gareth showed them the snacks, and left them with the promise to return later.

Inside, the space was much bigger than Liv had anticipated. They had stepped into a kind of waiting room, of which the top halves of the partition walls were made from glass, so they could see into the production room, which had the same sort of partition walls, and into the actual radio studio, which had walls that were completely made of glass. The outer walls of the studio space were the glass facade of the building, and it gave them fantastic views over Manchester and environs, as they were quite high up.

Tom let go of her hand as he veered off towards the ‘snack’ table, picking up a plate, and loading it with food. When he saw her quietly laughing at his enthusiasm for the food, he took a bite off a cheese croissant.

‘I need to eat throughout the day, otherwise I’ll end up a stick insect. My metabolism is off the charts, especially when I have to build up muscle for a role. My nutritionist said so.’ He said around two more bites. Polishing off the croissant, he held out a chocolate chip cookie to Liv. ‘Here, have a cookie, they’re delicious.’

Shaking her head, Liv snickered at his happiness about the food. It was as if they hadn’t had a coffee stop just an hour before, where he’d put away a tuna sandwich and two cups of tea.

‘I don’t think that the nutritionist meant that you have to stuff your face with junkfood at every opportunity you get, Tom.’ She took the cookie from him and took a small bite, having to admit to herself that it was very nice.

In answer to her admonishment, Tom took a raw carrot from a salad bowl on the table and bit into it.

‘One carrot does not negate the five pounds of sugar and fat you’ve already put away today, Love.’ Liv teased.

Finishing the carrot, and then the rest of his plate, he shrugged.

‘Ah, well, nothing to do about it now... We could burn it off later, though.’ He wiggled his eyebrows at her, looking ver proud of his double entendre.

A thoroughly amused laugh escaped her, but she didn’t get a chance to return his cheekiness, because Gareth chose that moment to re-enter the room, with a forty-something woman in tow.

The woman smiled kindly at them, and introduced herself as Kelly Murray, the producer of the show. It didn’t take long after that before she, Gareth, and Tom were talking shop in the production room, and Liv was left to herself in the waiting area. After she’d taken off her jacket, and made herself a plate with some potato salad, and baby carrots, and a white bread roll, she sat down on one of the two sofas. Plate on her lap, and phone in her hand, she played a game of solitaire while she nibbled on the carrots and took a bite of bread now and then. 

When she’d eaten everything on her plate, she decided to go search out a cup of coffee from the machine down the hall. Stowing her phone in her bag, she stood up and put her head around the door of the production room, where Tom, Gareth, and Kelly were going over some papers.

‘Hey, I’m going to get a cup of coffee. You guys want some, too?’

Tom gave her a grateful smile.

‘I’d love some, darling, thank you. Could you get me a cappuccino?’

‘Sure.’ She said, then turned to Kelly and Gareth. ‘You want a coffee, Kelly? Gareth?’ 

The woman shook her head.

‘No, thanks, I’m almost at my max for the day, and I always save my last cup for the afternoon.’

Gareth nodded at her questioning gaze.

‘For me just a plain black coffee, please.’ He requested.

‘Alright. I’ll be right back.’ She smiled and closed the door again, leaving them to their meeting.

To Liv’s relief, the coffee machine, despite looking like something out of a science fiction movie, was relatively easy to operate. 

As she waited for the first batch of coffee-beans to be ground, she leaned against the wall next to the machine, keeping an eye on its progress. Standing there, with nothing to do, Liv wondered about the radio show hosts, who still hadn’t shown up for the pre-show meeting. It was almost ten minutes to ten, and in about fifteen minutes the radio show would begin. 

Just when she was starting to think that the hosts weren’t going to show up, two men walked out of the lift, and made their way into the the studio. The taller of them saw her standing by the coffee machine and called out to her.

‘Hey there, sweetheart, be a good girl and get us two Americanos, one with sugar, and one without.’ He then proceeded to grin cheekily at her, and disappeared through the door with a wave.

Usually, she wasn’t averse to bringing coffee in for people if they asked her to; what were one or two coffees more when she was already going on a run, right? Only, the way he’d behaved, like she was solely there to bring him his coffee, didn’t sit well with her. Frowning at the man’s utter disrespect towards her person, Liv contemplated not bringing anything for him. Or spitting into his beverage. Too bad that she didn’t know which one would be his... _Damn_... She didn’t want his co-host to become the victim of her avenging spit. Or Tom being embarrassed by her behaviour.

Sighing, she removed the first double-walled take-away cup from the machine, putting on the lid, and then typing in the next coffee-order, deciding to just bring the stupid extra coffees. 

The flippin’ futuristic machine wasn’t a very quick machine, though, taking its time grinding the beans, and mixing up the different varieties of coffee. It was as if it knew she was in a hurry. With barely a minute to spare until the start of the show, Liv put the last lid on the last of her coffee orders and gathered all five cups up in her arms. It was a good thing that the cups were double-walled, because the first coffee would have been cold by the time the last one was brewed.

Carefully, she walked back to the studio, balancing all five large cups - _hey, if you go for a coffee run, you just better make it big ones_ , was a way of thinking she was now severely regretting- in her arms precariously, while holding sugar packets and stirring sticks in her hand, praying that none of the cups would suddenly cave in under the pressure of being pushed up against her, and lose its lid, burning her arms and tummy in the process. 

Liv’s mood had by then dropped to almost below zero, and it continued to plummet when, ten steps before she reached the door to the studio, the ‘On Air’ sign turned on.

‘Fuckin’ Hell.’ The expletive was hissed under her breath as she stared up at the sign. Pissed off was maybe too gentle a wording to describe her mental state. _Motherfucking stupid coffee maker... motherfucking stupid men... motherfucking stupid radio show!_

Now what?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked, let me know. As you have seen over the past few days, letting me know that you're out there, somewhere, reading my stories, earns you extra updates! Yay! :D
> 
> So, feed(back) the muse if you feel like it. Kudos are also very much appreciated. :)
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> MessyInsomniacBookGirl
> 
> *m’eudail: my dear (scots gaelic)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's in a bit of a pickle, because how does one handle an asshole, sexist radio presenter, when said presenter is out for you to trip yourself up and make a spectacle out of yourself. In the most negative sense of the word.
> 
> Thankfully, Tom has an awesome girlfriend-slash-avenging-angel, who handles the situation magnificently, without even knowing she just saved his arse, career-wise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am again.
> 
> How is this possible? I hear you ask. Well, I've been battling a nasty flu for the past week. So, I have no obligations for the time being, and a lot of time to write. 
> 
> Enjoy this tour in the Sandbox!
> 
> Trigger Warning: Sexist monologue, sexual harassment.

**Chapter 17**

 

Friday, 31 March, 2017. Quay House, MediaCityUK BBC Radio Manchester.

 

The pre-show meeting flew by, and before he knew it, Tom was sat at the microphone in the radio studio, chatting a bit with host Ian in the minutes before the show began. He’d let his gaze travel to the entrance door of the studio a couple of times, expecting Liv to walk through any moment with their coffees, but the door remained closed. 

Wondering if she’d run into some trouble with the scientific looking coffee machine, he excused himself to Ian and waved at Gareth to get his attention.

The young man stuck his head around the door of the studio.

‘Yeah, Tom?’

‘I’m sorry to have to ask this of you, but could you maybe check if Liv is okay, she’s been a while...’ He felt a bit like a tit to ask it of him, as Gareth had seemed quite busy with his tasks in the production booth. “I would have gone myself, but the show’s about to start, and-’

A smile appeared on Gareth’s face.

‘Sure, man. No problem. As soon as the show is underway, I’ll go see what’s taking her this long, alright?’

Tom nodded, assuaged for the moment.

‘Thanks, mate.’ 

‘No problem.’ Gareth repeated and threw him another smile. Then he went back to his work behind the glass partition wall. 

Tom let his gaze travel to the production booth, where Kelly was talking to Justin. Frowns were present on both their faces, as Kelly seemed to be telling Justin off, and Justin, the youngest of the two presenters, a man Tom’s own age, if he had to take a guess, seemed ready to start a tantrum, his face red with indignation. He was waving a sheet of paper around to apparently emphasise his words. With a last shake of her head, and a few curt words, Kelly cut the argument short, and Justin threw his hands in the air in frustration before stomping off towards Ian and Tom. It looked like there was a bit of trouble with the show. Or, at least, with one of the show’s hosts.

‘Sorry you had to see that. Justin is a bit of a hotheaded troll sometimes. He’s not a bad chap, though. Always up for a laugh.’ Ian said apologetically to Tom.

Tom nodded at him, schooling his face into an understanding expression.

‘We all have our off-days, mate.’ Best to keep the peace during the thirty minute slot that was reserved for the promotion of his film. 

He had a feeling that the discussion between Kelly and Justin had been about some of the questions that had been cut from the script sheet, at his own request. 

There were perfectly fine questions about Kong: Skull Island; about Tom’s experiences on set with his fellow actors; and about his plans for future films or stage plays. He even let them keep the question about the rumours of him being in the running for playing James Bond. A question he was sick of by now, but one which reporters kept harassing him with.

And then there were the questions that he wasn’t willing to answer under any circumstances, because they touched on his life outside the cameras, outside his work. These were primarily questions about his short-lived romance with Taylor, and about the new ‘mystery woman’ he’d been seen around London with. The questions had nothing to do with the Kong: Skull Island promotion, which was the only reason he was on the show in the first place; and to be honest, the proposed questions had been teetering on the edge between decency and rudeness, leaning towards provocative. Had they been any more intrusive and distasteful, then they would have been more at home in a gossip rag, than on a semi-serious BBC radio morning show. 

He’d spoken to Kelly about the questions being severely off topic, and she’d agreed, immediately scrapping them from the script, without putting up a fight. She’d sincerely apologised for them, and had told him that the show hosts mostly put the questions together. Leaving it to their producer to work with the guests on which ones would be acceptable. 

Apparently, Justin’s idea of acceptable did not coincide with his own, as the man was visibly annoyed about Tom’s objections to certain questions. Too bad for him that Tom had no intention to allow an overly ambitious radio host with an inclination towards gossip journalism, to dictate the course of the interview towards his own sensationalist gain. He cautiously watched on as the man sat down in his seat behind the microphone without saying a word.

‘Alright guys, ten seconds.’ Said Gareth through the speaker between the production room and the studio.

Tom put on his headphones and sat up, leaning on the table in front of him with his forearms.

‘Good Morning, Manchester! This is Manchester Chap Talk on BBC Radio Manchester. I am Ian French...’

‘... And I am Justin Coleman. Today, we have for you, the results of our poll from yesterday. With a few reactions from you lot in the city.’ Tom had to give it to the man, he was a professional. His voice never betrayed that he’d been fighting with his producer seconds before the show started.

‘The ever lovely Julie Sandringham will be here with the traffic information in half an hour, and we’ll have the weather-forecast for the weekend, brought to you by our own BBC weather man, Martin Brown.’ Ian seamlessly added his bit into the introduction.

‘But, first, we have a very special guest. He drove up to Manchester, all the way from London, to discuss with us his new film, Kong: Skull Island. He’s among the best of the best when it comes to his craft, and is one of the finest actors to emerge from British and American cinema in the past decade. We’re very happy to say that we have him all to ourselves for the coming thirty minutes. Welcome, Tom Hiddleston!’

‘Thank you, Justin, Ian. It’s great being here. Thank you for having me.’ By now, he was so used to doing these radio and tv things, he didn’t even have to think on how and when to react to the hosts anymore. Never react to their arse-kissing with what could be construed as false modesty, and always thank them for the opportunity to be on their show.

‘Yes, welcome, Tom.’ Ian took over from his co-host. ‘So, that must have been quite the drive, eh? At which time did your alarm clock go off this morning? I mean, you were here at nine, and it’s what? A four hour drive?’

Tom chuckled into the microphone in front of him.

‘Four-and-a-half, actually, Ian. And, yes, my alarm clock went off at an ungodly hour. I think I was up by three-thirty.’

Ian shook his head in bewilderment.

‘Good god, man. Couldn’t you just have taken a plane? Wouldn’t that have been faster?’

‘Well, it might have been, by an hour or so, but I have the coming couple of weeks off, and I felt like taking a road-trip, you know. The last few years have been so very busy, that I needed a change of pace. Slow down a bit.’

Ian hummed into his microphone.

‘Understandable.’

Justin jumped into the conversation effortlessly.

‘Talking about those busy few years, you’ve just come out of a very intensive promotion tour for Kong: Skull Island. I believe we are the last stop on your itinerary. After this, you’re done, right?’

‘Yes, I have, and you’re right, this is my last stop. The last thirty minutes of the tour. It’s been quite the ride, I’ll tell you that. But it was worth it. Kong: Skull Island is one of the best shoots I’ve ever been on. The work-ethic, of both cast and crew, was superb, and I think it shows in the result.’ Tom opened the way for his hosts to start the questions about the film; hoping that they’d keep to the approved questions and wouldn’t deviate.

The next few questions were about the making of the film, which he had no trouble answering. He’d had so much fun on the shoot, both with the crew and the cast, that he could talk about it all day if he had to. It had taken them to a couple of the most beautiful places in the world. Some of which he’d really like to visit again; without a film-crew present, preferably.

After a few minutes of verbally reminiscing on the film shoot, and telling funny stories from set, Tom slowly relaxed. The interview was going very well, the over-all ambience in the studio was upbeat and humorous, and he let his guard down during his amiable verbal sparring match with the two hosts.

Which turned out to be a mistake, because that was the moment that it all started to go to shit. It started with quite the intrusive question from the younger of the two hosts.

‘How about that Brie Larson chick, eh? What’s she like in real life?’ Justin asked when Tom had explained how he and Brie had worked closely with the special effects team to get their reactions to Kong just right. A provocative glint was in his eyes as he looked at Tom.

‘Brie is a fantastic actress. Very professional, talented and kind. She has a wicked sense of humour, and she makes it very easy to play off her. We had a blast on set.’ Trying to ignore the undercurrent of suggestiveness in Justin’s voice, Tom kept his voice neutral and friendly. A feeling of trepidation slowly started to become more prominent in his gut. And the feeling turned out to be more than justified when he heard what came out of the host’s mouth next.

‘I bet you did. Now, that is a filly I’d like to tap, if there ever was one.’ Justin joked crudely into his mic. Without a care in the world, he just continued the dreadful line of questioning. ‘Do you have any gossip to share from set? Anything juicy that may have happened?’

‘I'm sorry, what do you mean?’ Tom kept his cool and forced the other man to elaborate. His annoyance level was rising swiftly, though, and he tried to stomp down his temper.

‘Well, I mean, all those guys working on a film in the middle of nowhere, for weeks on end, and only _her_ to keep them company. You can’t tell me nothing ever happened.’ The man had the gall to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. Did he really think that the boys-will-be-boys schtick would get him to admit anything untoward about people’s behaviour during the shoot? The train of thought was preposterous. 

‘Justin, I don’t think that this is appropriate...’ Ian tried to break into the conversation, but Tom ignored his attempt and talked over the other host. He knew it was very ungracious of him, but he had to try to nip this disaster in the bud.

‘Pardon?’ Tom asked as he stared at Justin, flummoxed. ‘We were there to work. Nothing more, nothing less.’ His annoyance with the man in front of him started to leak into his tone. ‘Brie, and the _other_ women on set, have never been treated with anything other than respect during the shoot and the promotion tour. To have you insinuate anything else, is very disrespectful towards them, and towards the team they worked with.’ 

Shock was written on Ian’s face as he looked from his co-host, to Tom, and back. Things were getting out of hand.

From the corner of his eye, Tom could see how Kelly was making a ‘cut’ movement at her rogue radio host from behind the glass wall of the production room. Said radio host did not acknowledge his producer in any way, though, and just barrelled on.

‘Oh, come on, Tom. There have been rumours before, of you taking it up with one of your female co-stars. And we don’t blame you, I mean, they are all so beautiful. You can tell us the truth. We all know that it can’t always be all work and no play, especially for us men. We have instincts we just can’t help act on. Take me for instance... When we were on our way up here, I saw a little filly I’d very much like to tap, if you catch my drift. I think she’s an intern or something.’ Justin laughed at his own sexist and very disturbing remark, as if it was a joke to him. ‘The tits and arse on her were just... Wow...’ He whistled appreciatively. ‘See, we’re all men here, so it’s not necessary to be so politically correct, all the time, you know...’ 

Tom stared at him, speechless. Was this guy for real?!

The man was suddenly distracted by something that happened behind Tom. ‘Speak of the Devil.’ Justin exclaimed, and grinned. ‘There she is. She just came into the studio. With my coffee. Such a good little coffee girl. I love a woman who can take direction, don’t you? Have you ever seen such a juicy piece of ass?’ He addressed his listeners as his eyes roved over the person behind Tom. ‘Oh, dear fellow chaps, if you could only see what I’m looking at... I think I’m in love.’

Tom had been trying to keep his cool, while the man in front of him kept voicing his sexist bullshit, and figure out how to solve the situation without embarrassing himself, and, with him, the company that had produced Kong: Skull Island, when Justin's words clicked in his mind, and he suddenly realised that the man was talking about Liv. His Liv. 

_Motherfucker!_

Being well aware that he was still contractually bound to be on his best behaviour until the interview was over, Tom ground his teeth together in powerless rage. It surprised him that he hadn’t socked the man in the face yet. Anger and indignation coursed through his veins at Justin’s disgusting words and behaviour towards his co-star, towards the female set assistants, and towards Liv. Especially towards Liv. Fucking Hell, it was so hard to keep the part of himself that wanted to pummel the asshole radio presenter into the floor, under control. He was only a few heartbeats away from seeing red.

‘Justin!’ Ian hissed at his co-host, shame and anger contorting his expression.

‘What? It’s not like _she_ can hear us. This room is virtually sound-proof.’ Gesturing at the person who was stood behind Tom, in the waiting room, Justin laughed. ‘Come on, look at her! She’s really someth-‘ He cut off his oration when the door to the radio studio opened. ‘Hello, Lovely Lady.’ The tone of his voice had done a complete one-eighty when he addressed the woman entering the studio. ‘Have you come to bring us the nectar of the gods?’

Turning his head so he could see her, Tom observed silently as Liv walked into the studio, seeing a frown appear on her face when she noticed the strange, tense atmosphere between the three men. Her eyes flitted to Tom for a second, before she looked at Justin.

‘I guess.’ She answered, taking one of the three cups of coffee she carried and putting it down in front of Justin. ‘One Americano. I brought the sugar separately, because I didn’t know which one of you uses it.’

‘Thank you _so_ much, Sweetheart.’ 

_Laying it on a bit thick there, asshole._ Tom thought as he clenched his jaw in anger.

Then he shot up from his seat, with a furious growl escaping his throat, because Justin had just put his hand on Liv’s back when she moved to walk around him towards Ian, and had his hand slide down over the curve of her bum, squeezing the cheek before letting go.

Everything happened really fast after that. So fast even, that neither Tom, nor Ian, had the time to react.

Liv, fantastic, lovely, sassy Liv, grabbed the Americano she’d just placed in front of Justin and proceeded to squeeze the cup, causing the lid to pop off. She unceremoniously dumped the hot coffee into his lap, shaking the cup to even allow the last drops of coffee to fall to Justin’s crotch.

Justin howled from shock and pain and recoiled from the Fury standing in front of him.

‘You BITCH!’ He exclaimed.

‘Oh, I tripped, how clumsy of me.’ Liv said; her voice as saccharine as they came. Then she repeated the action with the second cup she was still holding, only this time she aimed for his shirt, eliciting another pained, indignant expletive from Justin. 

‘Oops... I did it again. Silly me.’ Was all she said, again in that sweet, sweet voice.

The final cup, she dumped over his head, before looking back at Tom. ‘I’m so sorry, Tom, that was your cappuccino.’ She sounded sincerely contrite about it.

‘That... That’s alright.’ He croaked, completely flabbergasted by Liv’s retaliation. It had taken the wind out of his sails completely, anger-wise. And left him not a little bit turned on by the fact that his Sprite had turned out to be a self-sufficient woman, who didn’t need no man to fight her battles for her. It was fucking sexy if you asked him. 

He licked his lips subconsciously as he watched how the magnificent woman grabbed Justin’s microphone and said, ‘Is this thing on?’ She looked past Tom, to Kelly, who nodded. 

Liv took a deep breath and started to talk into the mic, glaring at Justin, who was busy trying to dry himself off with napkins while his eyes were shooting daggers at her.

‘Alright. Hello there, Manchester. Olivia here. I guess you’re a bit confused as to what is going on over here. It must have sounded very disconcerting. Well...’ She sighed dramatically. ‘Mr...’ She looked at Ian for help.

Which he gave, immediately.

‘Coleman.’

‘Thank you, kind sir.’ Liv continued. ‘Mr Coleman has had a little mishap with his coffee. And with his co-host’s coffee. And with mr Hiddleston’s coffee... You see, I brought the messieurs all coffee, out of the goodness of my heart, and then mr Coleman wanted to thank me for bringing him his coffee by squeezing my bum. Please note that I do not know mr Coleman, and I hadn’t seen him before today, so I guess he was bit forward in assuming that I would be open to such an intimate way of him saying thanks.’ Her voice trembled, and she paused for a moment before she continued. ‘As you can understand, he gave me such a fright, that I tripped, and spilled coffee over him... Three times in a row. I really get so clumsy when a man sexually harasses me... I just can’t seem to help myself.’ She pinned Justin to his chair with a formidable scowl when it looked like the man was going to try and take the mic away from her. ‘Wait... When a man puts his fingers on your muffin when he uninvitedly squeezes your bum... Is that harassment... Or ASSAULT?’ Her voice rose in volume over the course of that sentence, and with the last word, Tom saw how Justin paled and shrank away from the furious woman, when he finally realised that he was up shit creek sans a paddle. He had just met a woman who wouldn’t put up with his pervert behaviour.

_Serves you right, asshole._ Tom watched on with pride when Liv drove the knife home, and administered the deathblow.

‘Oh, and don’t worry, dear listeners, the coffees weren’t really very hot anymore, so he doesn’t have any serious burns or anything. Just a very sticky and smelly outfit... Now, where do I go to file a sexual assault complaint against mr Coleman?’

Ian sounded very smug when he leaned forward and spoke into his microphone.

‘Two floors down with the lift, and then to your left. It’s got a big sign saying ‘human resource department’. You can’t miss it.’

Liv smiled sweetly at him.

‘Thank you... Well, I guess I’m off, then. So, this is for all the ladies out there who are at work, at home, at leisure, and listening: Don’t take the sexist crap, report the chap. Olivia out.’ Liv put down the mic, and marched herself out of the studio. Tom was in awe of the formidable way she’d handled herself. He followed her progress with his gaze and he could see how she grabbed her jacket and her shoulder bag and continued to march herself out the door, pulling it closed behind her and disappearing from his view.

Ian burst out laughing.

‘Holy shit. That was one feisty intern. Who gave you just what you deserved, Justin. What kind of assholery was that? Right, Tom?’

Tom understood that Ian was trying to save the broadcast of his show, but he was done playing nice. Taking off his headphones, Tom shook his head.

‘No. I will not stand for something this disgusting to happen right in front of me, and then play along to try and negate the whole incident, just to save the broadcast of your show. This interview is over.’ He said through clenched teeth, a righteous fury burning in his heart when he looked at the man who had dared to touch Liv in such an invasive and humiliating manner. ‘You should consider yourself lucky that I am not a more violent man, mr Coleman. If I had been, then a coffee soaked outfit would have been the least of your problems. But, that doesn’t mean that there will be no consequences to your ill-advised actions. The woman you just assaulted is my girlfriend. And you _will_ be hearing from our solicitors.’

After dropping that bombshell, which had both radio hosts speechless, Tom turned around and almost ran out of the studio, grabbing his jacket from one of the sofas in the waiting room before making his way into the hallway, to find Olivia, and see if she was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Flu-Infested-Muse also thrives on feedback and kudos. So if you liked, leave us some nomnoms! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Cheers!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liv is quite shaken up about what happened, and turns everything around on herself; blaming herself for screwing up Tom's interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter update this time. It's about 1800 words or so. I just liked how the last paragraph ended, and decided to stop the chapter on that note. 
> 
> On a personal note: The flu is still going strong... dammit... :(
> 
> But, on with the show, eh!
> 
> Happy reading!

**chapter 18**

 

Not having fled any further than the wall just outside the door of the radio studio, leaning against it to keep herself upright, and trying to get her stressed out nerves and tumultuous emotions under control, Liv startled when the door was suddenly pulled open, and a very harried looking Tom came barrelling past.

If she hadn't been so unsettled, it would almost have been comical to see how he came to a screeching halt when he noticed her standing there with her jacket and her bag laying on a heap by her feet. He almost tripped over his own long legs in his haste to stop his forward momentum towards the lifts.

‘Oh,’ He said. ‘You’re still here.’ He sounded relieved.

Standing up straight, Liv checked the expression on his face to discern if he was okay. He looked quite irked. _Shit. Have I gone too far with throwing that coffee?_

‘Tom, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. _Shit_. I completely screwed up your interview, didn’t I? I’m _so_ sorry!’ 

The mix of pissed off and relief in the expression on his face made way to one of utter disbelief.

‘Jesus, Liv, why the _hell_ are you apologising?’ Was the first thing that came out of his mouth; his tone incredulous.

Frowning in confusion, Liv met his surprised and worried gaze with her puzzled one. What did he mean, why was she apologising? Feeling terribly guilty about having disrupted the radio show to the point that it had ended up being a chaos in the small studio, she searched his eyes for a sign of the disdain she was sure he must be feeling towards her, towards her actions.

‘I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was just _so_ angry when he touched me like that. And then I threw that coffee all over him. And, _oh my god_...’ She lamented. ‘I totally hi-jacked that mic. I’m _so_ sorry!’ 

Tom still looked like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. He was speechless it seemed.

‘Please, say something.’ She implored, convinced beyond a doubt that she’d fucked up his whole interview.

Instead of agreeing with her, Tom let out an incredulous laugh. Which confused her even more.

‘You can’t be serious, Liv. Do you really think I’m upset because of the interview going to shit?’

Liv wrinkled her nose at him.

‘Well, yes?’ 

‘Why on earth would you think that?’ He sounded so flabbergasted that Liv narrowed her eyes at him, trying to find an explanation for his unexpected behaviour.

‘I know how important your work is to you. As important as my research is to me I’d reckon. I’d be pissed if someone screwed an interview up for me.’ How could he think that she’d not understand that?

‘Liv, I’m not angry with you.’

‘Why not?’ She crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. Shereally wanted to know.

‘Let me ask you this. If you were at Oxford Uni, and you had an interview for one thing or another, let’s say, Archaeology Magazine, and it was for a prestigious piece, with a mention on the cover. If during that interview, I came into the room bringing you and the interviewer a beverage, and the person interviewing you would, in full view of you, grab me by the arse, or the crotch, and I’d retaliate like you just did, screwing up your chance to be featured in the magazine, on its cover even, would you be cross with me?’ He raised his right eyebrow at her inquiringly.

Liv almost exploded at the thought alone.

‘What? No! Of course not! They had no business being all up in your business! Jesus! That whole thing wasn’t your fault, and you can’t be held respo-’ The realisation hit her hard. ‘Oh...’ Her eyes flew to Tom’s. He tilted his head and looked at her with a meaningful expression. ‘So, you’re not angry with me.’ It was more of a statement than a question.

‘No, of course not.’ He vehemently echoed her earlier sentiment. Cradling her face in his hands, he looked her in the eyes with a serious expression. ‘I’m more worried about you than anything else. You were the one accosted. Are _you_ okay?’

Her mind went back to the moment that the disgusting asshole in the radio studio had fully grabbed her bum cheek, pressing his fingers intimately against her as he squeezed, and she shivered in revulsion. In the moment in question she had only felt mortification, followed by a swift wave of shame, before her whole being had been engulfed by an unmatched fury, causing her to react as she had. _How dare he touch her in the way Tom had, not an hour earlier! How dare he tarnish the memory of her lover’s touch like that?! How dare he feel so entitled to her body that he hadn’t even thought twice about touching her without her consent?!_ Before she knew it, she’d dumped the contents of the three coffee cups on his person, vindictively hoping that he’d sustained a couple of painful burns to certain parts of his anatomy to remind him of his mistakes for some time to come.

‘Sprite?’ Tom’s endearment for her brought her back from her troubled thoughts, and she blinked, focusing on his concerned expression.

‘Yeah, sorry, I’m okay.’ She was quick to reassure him. ‘I’m okay.

He narrowed his eyes.

‘You don’t look okay.’ The statement hit a bit too close to home, and Liv splayed her hands over his, squeezing them gently.

‘I’ll be fine.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘It’s not like it has never happened before. I’m okay.’ Her attempt at brushing the whole thing off had the opposite effect.

Tom’s whole posture stiffened, she could feel his hands become rigid around her jaw, and his expression hardened. 

‘This has happened to you before?!’ Surprised at the dangerous undercurrent in his suddenly bone-chillingly cold voice, Liv looked at him sharply.

‘Um, yeah.’ Was he really shocked to hear that these things happened regularly?

‘When?’ He ground out.

Liv let out a soft chuckle at his naive question. 

‘Tom, I am a woman, living in this male-dominated world, working in a male-dominated profession. Sexist micro-aggressions, misogyny, and harassment are a common part of a woman’s everyday life. It happens all the time, to a greater or lesser extent.’ Her quiet reply was straightforward and honest, simple, and she knew it did nothing to ease his mind. She felt sorry for being so blunt, but what else should she, could she, have responded with? 

‘Jesus, _fuck._ ’ Agitation coloured his tone, and he dropped his hands from her face to his sides before raising them again to rub his eyes with his palms. He looked very unsettled when he looked at her again. ‘Do you have any idea what it does to me to hear you brush off that asshole’s sickening behaviour with an ‘I’m okay.’, just because you’ve become used to it through experiencing years upon years of the same behaviour from other men; because it happens all the time; because it will undoubtedly happen again.’ He raked his hands through his hair with halted movements. ‘I know that it is a problem. Hell, female friends of mine have told me stories about their experiences, and I’ve always been sympathetic toward them, but I never witnessed it first-hand, they were always just stories. Horrible stories, yes, but still, stories. It never hit home as hard as it did today. Seeing that loathsome snake lay his hand on you like that, _touching_ you like...’ A low, angry grunt rumbled up from his throat. ‘Touching you like he had _every_ _right_ to do so. Speaking about you as if you were _nothing_ more than a piece of meat, with no feelings, no personality. An object, solely there to be sampled for his gratification. I wanted to pound his fucking head into the desk. Hell, I still want to.’ Tom looked at her with haunted eyes. ‘How can you be so accepting, so calm about it? It’s only been minutes...’

Holding up her trembling hands for him to see, she let out a shuddering breath.

‘I’m not calm. Accepting, maybe, but only because I know that, with the smaller, everyday transgressions, it changes nothing if I stay angry. With those, I just try to adapt, and move on.’ Putting her shaking hands on her hips and looking down at the floor in thought, she voiced her plan on how to handle the situation, fury once more stirring in her gut as she thought about the radio presenter and his wandering hand. ‘That having been said; I’ve had it up to here with men in places of influence who think that they’re untouchable. I’m not going to let that twat get away with what he did. Who knows how many more women he’s harassed in this building? I’m going to file an official complaint against him with the BBC. A man like him shouldn’t be on the radio, being heard by so many people. It’s too easy for him to spread his disturbing views far and wide. I just hope the BBC do something about it.’ 

‘Oh, they _will_ do something about it alright. I’ll make sure of it.’ The determination in Tom’s voice made her gaze shoot up to his. 

‘How can you be so confident about that? Most of the time, jack shit happens when you file a complaint. People see it as an overreaction on the woman’s side. Best case scenario, the perpetrator gets a slap on the wrist, and maybe a suspension of a couple of weeks, but that’s it.’

Tom sent her a not so reassuring smile; it was more a baring of teeth.

‘Let’s just say that I have some pull with the British Broadcasting Corporation.’

‘Well, _that_ smile and choice of words are a bit _ominous._ ’ Liv frowned. ‘Should I be concerned?’

‘No, but _he_ should be.’ With a nod toward the door, he indicated whom he meant by that. 

Tom picked up her bag and jacket from the floor, and held them both in one hand, together with his own coat. _Big hands are really handy_. In spite of what had happened, Liv snickered inwardly about the pun her brain had made.

'Shall we?' he gestured towards the lifts.

‘Alright.’ She said. ‘Let’s go and make that complaint a reality then.’

Tom smiled at her and held out his hand for her to take. Beaming up at him, she acquiesced to his unspoken request and entwined their fingers, loving the feeling of their hands cradling each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked, let me know. I love it when people talk to me. (it doesn't even have to be about the story ;) ) Kudos are also appreciated.
> 
> Cheers!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filing a complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the new location of the Sandbox... which is in my bed... because I still have this flippin' flu.
> 
> I hope this new chapter is up to par, as I've been a bit feverish today. :(
> 
> Happy reading!

**Chapter 19**

 

While Liv filled out form, after form, after form, all of which had been provided by the BBC’s human resources department in such a large quantity that she strongly suspected a discouragement policy when it came to reporting sexual harassment within the company, Tom paced to and fro as he talked on the phone with Luke, keying him in on what had happened, and why the interview had been cut short. He requested Luke to contact Legendary productions and fill them in on the situation, and then proceeded with telling his publicist to prepare for an influx of press requests for an official statement, now that Tom, in his righteous anger, had accidentally mentioned on the regional radio show of a national broadcaster that he was dating someone.

Liv was half listening in on the conversation, and half focusing on the plethora of forms she had to fill out. 

They had retreated to a semi-private nook in an isolated corner of the large office that housed the HR department. The set-up gave the impression that the nook had once had the designation of ‘waiting area’, but Liv suspected that it was hardly ever used, because its two sofas, four chairs and low table looked like they were almost new. Only the slightly dated style, and a thin layer of dust on the table and the plastic armrests of the seats, betrayed that the furniture had been there for a longer period of time.

After filling out several forms with a lot of quite intrusive questions, which had the potential to be severely triggering to women who had gone through worse than she had, Liv wrote down her experience in her own words, as requested. 

She went back to the beginning of the stack of papers when she was done, having to still fill out her particulars. It was something she had saved to do until last, because it put her in a difficult position. If filling out her official names -including her titles-, and birthplace was really required for the forms to be valid, legally speaking, then her ‘secret’ had the potential of being leaked sooner than expected. She had no idea who would be handling her case, and if those people were bound by a non-disclosure agreement, or completely free to release her personal data into the public domain.

As she definitely did not want to be ‘outed’ as a Royal before the officially set date and time, Liv hesitated in putting pen to paper. _Shit... Talk about tough decisions..._ She was still adamant that her assailant should be removed from his function, though. 

She’d seen a good share of the young women working in the building, and she was loathe to think what they may have had to endure from him. It was hard to come forward with an accusation when you thought you had to fear for your job, because the man harassing you had such an influential position. If she could prevent them from going through the same thing she had, then she’d do it within a heartbeat. But how? 

Tapping the pen to her chin, she stared at the particulars box at the top of the form. Legal name(s), date and place of birth, current address, e-mail address, telephone number. Five cramped, dotted lines within a small rectangle. _There’s not even enough space to write everything down._

Tom sat down next to her on the sofa, still talking to his publicist. Looking sideways at the striking man as he spoke, she had an epiphany. Though it was a very small one. _Luke’s savvy in these kinds of things, right? Maybe he has some tips on how to handle this..._

Leaning towards Tom, Liv gestured to his phone.

‘May I talk to Luke for a moment?’ She asked quietly. Tom looked at her curiously before interrupting whatever Luke was saying to him.

‘Hang on, mate. Liv wants to talk to you.’ He said, and handed his phone over to her.

‘Thanks.’ Sending Tom a grateful smile, she turned her attention to the man on the other side of the phone-line. ‘Hey, Luke, it’s Olivia.’

‘Hey, Liv. I heard what happened. I’m sorry you had to go through that.’ Though she still wasn’t Luke’s most favourite person in the whole wide world, he’d -mostly- forgiven her for having a meddling Queen for a grandmother, and treated her accordingly.

‘Yeah, thanks, me too.’ After her answer she fell quiet, wondering how to begin, and silence stretched between them.

‘So, what’s up?’ Luke asked, when the loaded pause had gone on for long enough for his liking.

‘I’m having a bit of a problem filling out this complaint form... Well, not the form, exactly... It’s the particulars box. They want my personal information. Legal name, place of birth, address, etcetera. I was wondering if you knew how confidential the treatment of a sexual harassment case usually is.

It was silent for a few seconds.

‘Maybe it’s better if you contact your solicitor first.’ His pondering tone did nothing to reassure her.

‘Solicitor... Luke, I’m a PHD student, with a PHD student’s salary, and I live in a one-bedroom cottage in Oxford, which is a bloody costly undertaking. I don’t have a _solicitor_.’ 

‘But, you’re a part of the Royal Family. They must have dozens of solicitors working for them.’ 

‘I am sure they do. But, in spite of what you seem to think, I don’t leech off of my family. I live my life independently from them. The money I have, is the money I make, and the small amount of money I manage to save each month. And let me tell you, it’s not enough to have a sodding _solicitor_ on standby.’ A stressed out groan escaped her, and she rubbed the stiff muscles in her neck. ‘Any other brilliant ideas?’ She was well aware that she sounded petty, but, between the morning’s early start, preceded by a short night, the excitement of seeing Tom again, the long drive, the bitch-ass coffee machine, and the handling of the handsy asshole, she was starting to reach her limit of what little patience she had left. 

‘Other than, don’t file the complaint? No, not really. These things are public record. All you can do is hope that the BBC doesn’t want this to be in the headlines and that its staff is going to be discreet.’

‘Well... bugger all, then.Thanks, Luke.’ She handed the phone back to Tom, and started to fill out the particulars box on the form. There was no way that she was going to let the sexist radio presenter get away with his behaviour. Not if she could prevent him from doing it to other women, too. She’d rather take the risk that the world might find out about her existence a couple of months prematurely than allow him to victimise any more women from his position of power.

‘ _HRH Olivia. Charlotte... Victoria. Regina... FitzClarence-Hanover... MacLeod._ ’ She muttered as she wrote down the torrent of names and titles she’d been gifted with. ‘ _Duchess of... Clarence. Countess... of... Munster. Baroness Wyndham-De... L’Isle. Princess... of Skye. Date and Place of birth... fifteen four nineteen-eighty-two... Balmoral Castle, Balmoral, UK.’_

After writing down her Oxford address in the same neat, tiny script she’d used to write her personal details, the box was so crammed with information, that she had to improvise and put her e-mail address and phone number in a footnote at the bottom of the page. Then she went through the whole of the stack of papers, putting her initials on each page, until she came to the last page, where she officially dated and signed the document.

Turning to Tom, who was just ringing off with Luke, she held out her pen. 

‘They are asking for witnesses. Are you okay with putting your name down?’

Tom put away his phone, and took the pen from her. Without any hesitation, he wrote down his full name, as well as Luke’s contact details. When he was done, he looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, still not saying a thing. It made her feel slightly nervous.

‘What?’

‘Are _you_ okay with putting _your_ name down?’ He countered her earlier question in a pensive tone. ‘You’ve been so set on having these coming last few months to yourself, living in relative privacy. Are you willing to take the risk of becoming the centre of a media frenzy before it’s absolutely necessary?’

Tilting her head, Liv pursed her lips in thought.

‘Well, if you’d asked me it yesterday, I’d have said that nothing I could think of -within reason, of course- would be worth that kind of risk, but today... I’d say, absolutely. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few in this case. With the few being... just me. I couldn’t in good conscience leave here without making sure that that bastard won’t be able to touch any of the women in this building, ever again. What is a little loss of privacy when it means that so many women will be safe from a power abusing predator. It’s worth the risk. A thousand times over.’ She sent him a crooked and slightly mischievous smile. ‘And hey, maybe writing down my ties to the Royals will do some good, and helps with convincing the BBC that booting him from the company is a mighty good idea.’

Tom’s contemplative expression had softened into something so incredibly kind, that Liv shied away from meeting his gaze with hers directly. She licked her lips nervously before taking a fortifying breath and chancing another glance. When he saw her hesitant gaze, he gave her a tender smile, and lifted his hand to cradle her jaw, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

‘You are extraordinary.’ He said quietly, so only she could hear, and, oh, so carefully, pressed his lips to hers in a heartbreakingly loving kiss. It lasted only seconds, but it had a bigger emotional impact on her heart than any other, more passionate kiss could have had. It left her speechless when he pulled away, his hand still resting warm on her cheek. Staring at Tom with wide eyes, she lifted her fingers to her lips to touch where their mouths had met only seconds before. 

‘I... Um... I...’ _Yeah, way to go, Liv. So eloquent._

A blush crept up her neck when Tom picked up on her befuddlement immediately, and proceeded to kiss the tip of her nose with a tender, but amused smile.

‘Come on, let’s file that complaint and get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m very much looking forward to a lovely, quiet holiday where it’s just the two of us.’

Liv nodded and checked if all the forms were in the correct order on the table before standing from her seat and putting her jacket on, hanging her bag over her shoulder. Next to her, Tom had also pulled on his coat; picking up the stack of papers from the table when he was done.

Together, they walked up to the desk of the young woman who had helped them earlier with procuring the correct forms Liv had needed to file her complaint. 

Watching how Tom stopped in front of the woman, who had been busily typing away on her keyboard, Liv saw his whole countenance change as if at the flip of a switch. Turning him from Her Tom, into Tom Hiddleston, The Actor. _And Master Manipulator._ Her brain provided helpfully while she looked on how he proceeded to charm and mesmerise the BBC employee within an inch of her life.

‘Hello again, Marina.’ He said, his whole face lighting up with a devastatingly charming smile as he reached out the hand in which he held the forms Liv had filled out. ‘We’ve filled everything out. Would it be possible for you to make copies for both of us? I hope that’s okay?’

The blond woman looked up at him like a deer in headlights before she smiled a big, adoring smile. If Liv had to take a guess, she’d say that the poor girl was only moments away from spontaneous combustion.

‘You... you remembered my name.’

Tom’s smile became even more potent at that. It was almost blinding. Liv wondered distractedly if it would be a good idea to invest in a pair of snow goggles. Maybe a welding cap?

‘Of course.’ There was a note of assurance in his voice that made the woman almost melt into a puddle, it was so obvious it was almost cringe-worthy. If she was honest with herself, Liv had to admit that it was quite the handy skill to have. 

Tom gave the woman a look that could only be described as his sad puppy eyes look. ‘So, would it be terribly rude to ask you for a pair of copies of these forms?’ He asked again, handing the forms over to the woman.

She eagerly jumped up from her seat and smiled at Tom again; so broadly that Liv almost expected her face to split in two.

‘No, of course not, just wait here, I won’t be a minute.’ 

When the girl had walked towards the back of the office, and disappeared behind a partition wall with their forms, Liv turned to Tom, her expression thoughtful.

‘That was very impressive. But also very disconcerting. I hope you only use your powers for good?’ 

Tom flashed her a naughty grin.

‘Define, good?’

Liv shook her head in mock disappointment.

‘Oh, you naughty, naughty man.’ She admonished him, voice solemn.

The naughty grin turned into something more heated, and Liv had to refrain from fanning herself, because, sheesh, the man posed a genuine danger to her wellbeing when he put his heart into it.

‘Want to find out how naughty?’ He asked, his voice low and raspy.

‘Oh, _definitely_.’ She shot back with a heated grin of her own, and she saw his eyes darken with desire. She bit her plump lower lip in anticipation and had to remind herself that jumping him and climbing him like a tree would be frowned upon when she did so in public.

Then, his gaze suddenly shot upwards from where it had been resting on her face, toward something happening behind her. She saw how he quickly schooled his expression into something more acceptable than blatant, vivid lust. Liv turned her head towards the back of the office and saw that Marina was on her way back to them, a big smile still gracing her face.

‘There you go.’ She said to Tom, handing him two black, plastic files. ‘I’ve bound them into folders, so you won’t lose any loose sheets of paper.’

‘Oh, wow, that’s very thoughtful of you, Marina. Thank you so much.’ Liv thought that if Tom lay the tooth-achingly sweet gratitude on any heavier, the enamel of her teeth was going to spontaneously disintegrate. _Yeah, sure, and send her one more of those panty-dropping smiles while you’re at it. Poor girl is gonna lose her shit._

Deciding to step in before the woman fainted from overexposure to Tom Hiddleston, The Actor, Liv gave her a friendly smile.

‘Yes, thank you so much for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it. There were so many different forms to fill out.’

Marina turned her attention to Liv, and nodded in agreement.

‘Yes, the BBC is a bit of a bureaucratic maze sometimes.’ She hesitated a moment before continuing with a question. ‘May I ask you something?’

If she’d directed that question to Tom, Liv was sure that it would have been a request for a picture, or a hug, or a picture and a hug, but as it was directed at her, she had no idea what to expect.

‘Um, sure.’

‘What does the HRH stand for in front of your name? I know I’m not really supposed to look at these things, because they’re confidential, and I didn’t look any further or anything, but I couldn’t help but notice it, because it was at the top of the page.’ She looked a bit flustered at her own forwardness, and Liv smiled at the suddenly shy woman.

‘Oh, it stands for Her Royal Highness.’

Marina almost dropped her own folder -which was the one with the original documents- and had to scramble to regain her grip on it. If Liv had thought that she’d looked like a deer in headlights before, then she’d been mistaken now. The young woman’s eyes were as round as saucers as she stared at Liv.

‘Wow, so, you’re, like, a _real_ princess?’

‘I guess you could say that, yes.’ Liv nodded.

‘Are you related to the Queen?’ 

‘Yup.’ She humorously popped the p, and decided that it was time to take charge of the situation, because if they wanted to be at their hotel before it got dark, then they’d have to get a move on, soon. ‘I’m sorry to have to cut this lovely conversation short, but Tom and I have to be on our way within the next thirty minutes, otherwise we’ll miss our next appointment. I hope that’s okay?’ Taking a page out of Tom’s book, she stayed very polite and friendly.

‘Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’ve been holding you up.’ The woman was back to being flustered. Poor thing.

‘Not a problem, love. Thank you so much for your help, with everything. You’ll make sure that that complaint finds its way to the right people, and stays out of the hands of the wrong people?’

‘I’ll guard it with my life, Your Highness.’ To Liv’s consternation, and Tom’s amusement, she even threw in a curtsy.

‘Oh, nothing of that, please. Call me Olivia.’ Liv stuck out her hand, and the young woman shook it with enthusiasm, ‘It was very nice meeting you, Marina.’

‘You, too, Olivia.’ Marina beamed.

Tom stepped forward to say goodbye to the BBC employee, even throwing in a hug for the blushing girl, making her day by doing so. Liv was sure of it.

They quickly made their way downstairs after that, and turned in their visitor lanyards at the reception desk.

Taking Tom’s outstretched hand in hers, Liv followed him out of the building, the fresh air feeling lovely on her face. She closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp air; a feeling of happy anticipation filling her being. It was time for their holiday to start, and everything, including the weather, looked like it was going to be awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked my fever-induced writing, please be a dear and let me know; either by leaving a note, or some kudos nibbles for the Muse. She likes those. :D
> 
> Happy Weekend, everyone! ^_^
> 
> Cheers!


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